#the fandom was a frenzy waiting to see if it would actually happen

[larrylimericks]

12Jul24

Three hundred and fifty-six days Since last we saw Harry on stage, But tonight a duet! For Ms. Nicks’ Hyde Park set, And a Songbird who’s now flown away.

[bts-0t-7]

Under the Light of the ARMY Bomb | KNJ

Pair: Namjoon x idol reader

Summary: Surprising your long-distance boyfriend as a singer has its perks. But when an unexpected double surprise came for ARMY’s in the stadium that day, it was the absolute highlight of the event. 

Genre: Pure tooth-rotting fluff, idol reader, idol Namjoon, established relationship au

WC: 1189

If you are ARMY, regardless of whether you have attended BTS concerts in person or virtually or even if you were just watching through clips, you know the exhilarating energy that they possess. Together with that, ARMY’s cheers and sing-alongs make the environment a thoroughly different environment. 

Today marks the last day of the world tour for BTS and they were performing at the Seoul Olympic Stadium. Even standing outside, you were already alight with energy, a sea of ARMY’s waving their light sticks and singing along to the electrifying performance on stage. From the little slit along the stages, you saw Namjoon commanding the stage with his powerful presence, leading his members with equal amounts of charisma. 

Every time, you would be part of the audience - a part of ARMY. But today will be unlike any other. Today, you had fully intended to join them on stage and give Namjoon the fright of his life. 

Amidst the crowd, you were hiding in plain sight. With your own fandom and performances, it was rare to find a moment of spare time where the both of you could just enjoy each other’s presence without the worry of the future. It has been four years since the both of you have come out to the public about your relationship. Saying that there were no hard times would be a big fat lie. 

You got threats on threats, making you constantly fear for your life. But there was also a section of ARMY and your own fan base that gave a positive output. You had changed your energy from them and did your best for them. You were glad that over time, people also grew accustomed to the fact that the both of you were dating. Not to say that there were no haters but just… lesser than before. 

When you found out that your precious boyfriend and his brothers were performing in Seoul, you couldn't resist the temptation of surprising him. Of course, you had told his members and talked to the company and their managers, ensuring that it was indeed okay for the surprise to happen. Arranging the preparation with the help of BTS’s management, it was still a challenge to keep your presence a secret from your boyfriend. The boys were not the best at keeping secrets from Joon and his sharp eyes just seemed to see everything. And your resistance was diminishing by each second when you see your boyfriend performing, hot as shit and cursing his way through. 

But it was all part of the thrill. 

As the concert reached its peak and the vocal line was performing ‘Dimple’, you slinked backstage with the rest of the dancers, heart thumping with anticipation. The crowd was in a frenzy and this was the perfect moment. 

Joining the line of backup dancers as they got onto the stage, shrouded in a hoodie and a cap, the spotlight was completely focused on the vocal line, allowing you a few seconds to prepare. 

As they got to the chorus, you stepped forward, voice steady and heart full of love and excitement. The vocal line continued singing with you, harmonising their voices with yours with ease. In the background, ARMY’S cheers increased in volume as the ARMY bombs went crazy, but all you could see was Namjoon’s surprised expression. It took a moment for the realisation to set in that you were actually here. The wide smile that adorned his lips made your heart explode. 

All that waiting was worth it. 

It was unforgettable. 

You and the boys continued performing, having the best time teasing their leader during the remainder of the song. As you faced ARMY and waved your own ARMY bomb, you could feel Namjoon’s eyes on you the whole time. But he couldn’t seem to take them off of you as the crowd erupted into cheers and applause as you bowed to them. Your presence on the stage was unexpected and everybody was living off it - including him. It was the best surprise that he could have ever asked for. 

When the song ended, Namjoon ran out from backstage, clumsily tripping over himself. As he stepped forward, his hands trembled uncontrollably when he held your own. The rest of the boys were rowdy behind the both of you, shouting and teasing, revelling in the romantic surprise unfolding before their eyes. But all of that turns into the background when Namjoon looks into your eyes. All he could see… was you. 

The crowd quickly hushed as Namjoon spoke, his voice thick with emotion. “Y/N, what an announcement spoiler you are.” He laughed. “From the moment we met, from the days we spent together to the nights after every concert and phone call, I’ve always been thinking about it. You brought so much light into my life, to the rest of the boys, and to ARMY. I wanted to tell you when we decided to go on that date two days later but after this surprise, I can’t think of a better time to ask than now.”

The crowd went crazy and then went silent again. 

Tears welled in your eyes as your heart rate rose to a dangerous level just thinking of the possibility of - 

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to wake up every day with you by my side and go to sleep every night with you in my arms.” Namjoon kneeled down on one knee, an open ring box in one hand and a microphone in the other. “Will you marry me? Can you take this clumsy, absolutely hopeless kitchen man in?”

The stadium fell into absolute silence, the air tense with anticipation. 

But you didn’t hesitate. There were so many things you wanted to say but the words caught in your throat. Your mind was moving miles per second but all you could say was, “Yes! Yes, oh my gosh Namjoon, yes!”

The stadium erupted in applause and maybe you were just high from the adrenaline, but you swore that even the ground was shaking. But it was because of the cheers from the crowd and the ecstatic reactions of the rest of the members that made the moment even more unforgettable. Namjoon slipped the ring onto your finger, sealing the promise of a lifetime together. Namjoon’s hand cupped the back of your neck and brought you in for a heated kiss. 

You prepared a surprise for him but got a larger surprise instead. You knew that you were going to forever be teased on this by the boys but you couldn't bring yourself to care. It was you and Namjoon - against the world. 

As the concert continued, the atmosphere was even more electric. The unexpected love and joy in the air was palpable and your surprise appearance and engagement became the highlight of the night. Namjoon’s confession of love in front of thousands of fans marked a clear, new beginning - not just for you as a couple but for BTS and their dedicated ARMY as well. 

It was a night of music, love, and memories that none would forget. 

[manyothermusingsofmine]

Is A Friend In Deed || Drabble

Fandom: Ace Attorney       Wordcount: 3688 Warnings: A dead body is found, but there’s no details. Worry over a loved one gone missing. Idk about anything else, let me know. Summary: People are rushing and trying their very best to find a woman gone missing

----------------------------------------- The doors to the police station were honestly used to quite a bit of a beating. Often flung open by officers, detectives, and more likely distraught loved ones of victims, they were quite sturdy.  So when they were actually thrown open with enough force to slam into the nearby wall and tremble, someone must have been immensely upset.

And in his defense, Klavier was just that, as he stalked over to the front desk in a manner that betrayed just how upset he was.

Before the officer at the front desk even had a chance to ask what was wrong, Klavier went off in a worried frenzy about how they had to take his statement, how it was a matter of grave importance- in all honesty, it wasn’t the first time he had raised his voice around the place to try and get quicker results, but something was different about it this time; especially when he started barking that they better bring Detective Skye down from her post as she would at least heed his words and treat him seriously.

Another officer nearby decided to sneak away as his tirade went on. If he wanted Detective Skye to tell him the same thing the front desk officer had been trying to tell him ever since his outburst started, then so be it. She knocked on the detective’s door.

"Detective Skye?"

Ema groaned, looking up from her work with a certain amount of annoyance. Couldn't she see she was busy? But the officer that had knocked on her office door and disturbed her process seemed, well, pretty disturbed herself.

"Your, uhm, 'favorite' prosecutor is here and... He's honestly making quite a scene."

Yeah, that tracked. Ema let out a resigned sigh as she got up from her chair. What the hell did he want this time around?

"I'll deal with it."

She went down to the front desk where the glimmerous fop, as she called him, was indeed still making quite a ruckus to the poor sod manning the desk. She rolled her eyes slightly, used to his dramatics by now.

"Oi, fop, what's all this about then?"

"Ema!"

Ema? The stark difference of it made her eyebrows knit into a frown. He never called her by her actual name. It was always Fraulein, to her personal chagrin because at this point she felt like he was doing it on purpose to annoy her.

"Can you please tell Herr Front desk over here to just take my claim seriously?!"

"Woah, woah, I just got here! Can you at least tell me what's gotten into you this time before you start making demands?"

"Mary's missing."

Mary. Mary? Ema tilted her head slightly in thought, trying to match the name with a list of people and descriptions in her head. Oh, wait, that was one of the workers at the district court. Fire hair girl, her, and- Ah. Well, that explained a lot.

"And I told him what I tell everyone! I can't take such a claim for an adult unless they have been missing for 48 hours. She's an adult, she's allowed to leave if she wants to!”

"And I'm telling you, she wouldn't!" Klavier snapped in such a vicious manner that Ema immediately put herself between the two- it somehow felt like the desk wasn't protection enough and she didn't actually feel like arresting a prosecutor for assaulting an officer. Had she actually ever seen Klavier this upset?

"Stand down," she said, low and firm, holding her hands up in an attempt to deescalate the situation.

"What makes you think she's missing? Talk to me. No, ignore him," she said holding her hand back to the officer in a gesture meant to shut him up, while redirecting Klavier's attention back to herself.

"Talk to me, not him. What happened?"

"She didn't show up to work this morning; that's uncommon enough as is, but no one seemed to know where she was. She didn't have a day off, she didn't call in sick. I took some time myself to go the usual route she takes to work- I was worried she might have gotten in an accident or something."

Ema frowned, momentarily debating on what to do- her relationship with Klavier wasn't on a level where either of them was used to comforting the other, and she didn't really know what kind of comfort she could offer. She just gestured for him to continue.

"I got to her place, and it just got weirder. Her car was still parked in the usual spot. I went into her apartment, I have a key to the place, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Well, I mean, in a weird way; if she bailed country or something she would've at least taken her clothes, wallet, laptop and chargers with her, right?"

Ema nodded, since he had a point there; that did strike her as an odd turn of events.

"And then, I found the most condemning bit of evidence that makes me believe something else happened- That something is wrong."

Klavier moved his hand up to his shoulder, moving his hair out of the way to reveal a small European robin nestled up against his neck. A small peep left the bird, as if it wasn't keen on being out in the open all of a sudden. Klavier sighed, a very worried expression making its way onto his face.

"That's Grayson; her pet bird. She adores him. I'm pretty sure half her salary goes into his dietary needs and veterinarian bills because she specifically looked for someone specialized in aviary care. She would never, ever leave him unattended like this. So, believe me; something happened to her. I don't know where she is, Ema, I need your help. Please."

Ema blinked, unsure for a moment how to react to his plea as her brain was still processing what she had been told. But the second it clicked she just nodded. If throwing her weight around would help find someone who clearly had no reason to vanish on purpose, then so be it.

"I hope you've been writing that down," she said to the front desk officer.

"But a missing-"

"I'm not treating this as a simple went missing on her own accord. She was either in an accident, or worse, and I don't like the worse option especially not with an employee of the district court. Write it down and open the case."

"Yes, detective Skye."

 She looked back at Klavier, hoping to have at least relieved a little bit of his worries, though she wasn’t sure if she had accomplished that when she implied something worse could’ve happened to Mary

"Thank you," he whispered to her, as the gravity of the situation was clearly setting in.

"... You're welcome. Do me a favor; get back to the office. Leave this to me. I'll find her."

 She watched him leave, and immediately a sinking feeling washed over her. Well, time to make some calls.

For once in his life, he heeded her directions, and he actually went back to the district court. It hadn’t only been on her suggestion though, he figured the best course of action currently was to ask Simon how he was going to take care of Grayson while the bird’s owner was missing. Simon had Taka the hawk, so honestly, Simon was his best and only bet.

“Anything?” Simon asked as soon as Klavier walked in, surprised when a small carrier cage was set on his desk and opened. Grayson hopped out, looking around for a little bit, before fluttering off and sitting down on the perch next to Taka. Apparently the poor thing was looking for some comfort, too.

Simon had followed the flight of the little bird before turning back to Klavier, who just shook his head and started pacing around the room.

“What am I going to do, Simon? What if she’s out there, hurt-“

“You have to leave this to the police. They have more man power, more resources- I know it is hard, but you have got to let them do their job. That is the quickest way we will find her.”

Klavier just looked at him, huffing as he felt like he was barely keeping it together. Sure, Simon was technically right, but what use was he to Mary sitting here twiddling his thumbs until someone else found her?

He only partially picked up that Simon was on the phone with Nevada, trying to calm them down as the news of Mary’s disappearance had just reached them as well. Several people were upset, trying to calm down, all because nobody knew where she-

Klavier left Blackquills office without another word, angrily slamming the elevator button to the ground floor. He was storming out of the building as soon as the elevator brought him to that level, making a beeline for his motor bike while in a smooth move putting his helmet on.

He revved the engine up hard, before speeding off from the property. He ignored the incoming calls on the headset he wore underneath, letting all of them go to voicemail. He was well aware who was calling him, and he wasn’t interested in picking up because of it.

Sure, the police had more manpower, but he had a bike he could fit through the smallest openings of traffic. And the least he could do, in his own mind, was to check all the spots he and Mary went to together, and all the spots he knew she retreated to when she felt the need to.

“Incoming call from; Blackquill,” said the robotic voice of his headset.

“Decline.”

"Damn it, Gavin-san, pick up!" Simon yelled at his phone as he got connected to voicemail again. Nevada was beside themself- Simon really didn't have the ability to both comfort his partner and chase after Klavier who had clearly taken his own plan after learning about the disappearance. And worst of it all was that Simon couldn't even blame him- he'd probably do exactly the same had it been Nevada instead of Mary.

She had probably heard the discord of his heart when he had yelled at the phone, because Athena was just there, next to him all of a sudden.

"What's wrong?"

"Light-san is missing. Gavin-san is not taking it well in the slightest and sped off on his bike, and I can afford neither the time nor dedication to chase a rogue prosecutor all over town. My duty is to keep it together so that I can support Nevada, but we need someone to talk some sense into our resident trouble maker, could you-"

Athena laughed a nervous laugh.

"Oh, sorry, it's not funny, that's not- He's not going to listen to me either, Simon," she explained, when a lightbulb plinked up over her head.

"But I think I know someone who can give it a good old try."

If you had come across him on the road, you'd probably curse him out. Klavier was zigzagging between cars like a maniac, only barely paying attention to the speed limits- and then just because he couldn't afford wasting time explaining to an officer why his driving and turning was so damn erratic.

On a stretch of road that went straight ahead for a long time, he barely noticed that he kept picking up speed when a call came through on his headset. Incoming call- Apollo? Before he even realised it himself he agreed to accept the call, only to immediately be met with;

"Pull over."

"I'm a bit-"

"Pull over!"

Apollo's voice was loud and resounding enough that a few people stopped what they were doing to look at him, but his worry for a friend's wellbeing overwrote the usual anxiety he would feel about disturbing the peace like that. Still, his chords of steel seemed to reign it way back in as he quietly added "... Please."

 Klavier sighed, signalling for a moment that he wanted to get to the very edge of the road before pulling over there and stopping, pushing his bike all the way off the road and standing next to it.

He pulled off his helmet, switching the headset’s call to his phone with a simple button press and putting that to his ear. Might as well have the call like that so Apollo didn’t feel the need to yell at him again.

 "What?"

"Do you really think this is helping anybody? Driving around like a maniac in some attempt to find her?"

"I-"

"Klavier. It's not. You're not helping anyone, least of all her, if you get yourself killed on the road in a blind panic. Please, come back to the district court. Let the detectives do their job, and let us help you in whichever way we can."

"Apollo..."

"I know," Apollo said softly, trying to show empathy. It wasn't often that he heard Klavier's voice actually shake with fear like that; he fully understood that all of this was just a desperate plea for help from someone who didn’t know where a loved one was. He honestly, truly couldn’t blame him for that. He didn’t. He just didn’t want him to make any reckless decisions while in that state.

"Please, come back. And drive safe."

"..... Okay."

Klavier sighed as the call ended, leaning back against the bike in a desperate attempt to calm his racing heartbeat and blink the burning tears out of his eyes. He hated falling apart like this.

But, ultimately, Apollo was right. This wasn't helping anyone. Though he also doubted that being in the district court would give him anything useful to do.

Still, he put his helmet back on and got back on his bike, joining the traffic at an appropriate speed and behaving like one should on the open road. He just circled his way back around to the district court house.

Somehow or another, he found himself now being basically babysat by Blackquill. Figured the other prosecutor wouldn’t let him out of his sight again after the stunt he just pulled, and especially not after being chewed out for just leaving the robin there. In Simon’s defense, Grayson only seemed to have any interest in eating his food if Klavier was the one offering it up, but even caring for the pet of his lover did little to calm Klavier’s emotional state.

“Can you please give me something to do?!” Klavier eventually whined, being glad to do anything but listen to his own mind driving him mad.

It only made him end up with a but of paperwork, but hey, it was better than nothing.

 “So miss Light is missing?” Gumshoe asked, tapping the steering wheel as he and Ema drove around town. Ema just looked out of the passenger window before giving a small affirmative huff. What else was there to say about the matter? That Klavier wasn’t taking it well? That none of her friends seemed to be taking it well? That was hardly a surprising thing. “I just want to find her. Hopefully alive. My relationship with the fop may be strained at best, but I don’t actually want life to throw another wrench into his life; not like this.”

Gumshoe just nodded, understanding where she was coming from, and honestly being quite proud of her for being the way she was. They drove around town looking for anything that could be a sign of something awry. They got some food at a burger joint at some point, with Gumshoe basically inhaling the meal Ema bought for him before driving back around the town while she was still eating.

“Did you get any reports in of some kind of accident, Gumshoe?”

Gumshoe just shook his head.

“Nope. Some of the officers have been going around to ask the hospitals if anyone like Miss Light came in. No luck there either. It’s like she completely dropped off the earth since yesterday.”

“Well, she has to be somewhere.”

It was at that moment a call came in through Gumshoe’s radio. The station had gotten an emergency call about a fatal shooting happening down at the old abandoned factory, and was asking for the closest unit to go take a look at what happened down there.

“That’s outside of town, right?” Ema asked, and Gumshoe nodded. They were thinking the exact same thing; they had passed the route out of town only a few minutes ago, and the drive there would probably take no more than forty minutes. It was worth checking out.

Gumshoe picked up the radio, calling in that he would go take a look, and drove off as soon as he had set the radio speaker back in it’s holder.

The sky had already been turning gloomy with grey clouds when they had started their search for Mary in the earlier hours, but by this point there had been a pretty steady downpour going. After last night, it had only cleared up for a few hours in the morning before the rain had made it’s vicious return. As soon as they stepped outside of the car, both of them were pretty much soaked with rain. Other police cars had also started to show up, and Gumshoe’s stomach dropped when he realised one of the cars was the one of the forensic team.

It didn’t take Ema and him long to figure out why. In the middle of the sandy, but now muddy, field where the long abandoned factory stood was a dead body.

Ema was immediately intrigued and went over to check it out, while Gumshoe definitely had no desire to do so; just because he was a detective didn’t mean he did well with blood crime scenes. Surely he could ask Ema later what the cause of death was, and who they should ask to oversee and prosecute the case.

With the sheer amount of clouds in the sky the sun was pretty much blocked out, and the rain also didn’t help much when it came to seeing what was happening around him. Gumshoe took out his flashlight, clicking it on and started wandering around the premise of the factory in the hopes of finding anything that the rain hadn’t washed away yet.

Someone had opened the door to the factory, that much was for sure. Rain and dust had mixed in patterns near the front door, and there were definitely handprints in the dust on the door.

Taking a small breath, Gumshoe shone his flashlight into the dark, abandoned factory. Well, nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary there. There was a bunch of old rusty looking machinery, long tile floors that hadn’t been cleaned in a while, someone’s foot, absolutely nothing out of the-

Wait. Someone’s foot?

Gumshoe immediately pointed his flashlight back in that direction. Yup, there was no doubt about it, that was someone’s foot being illuminated by the light in the darkness. Directing it forwards he saw their silhouette, and for just a moment he froze in shock.

Was that- oh, god, it was-

"Hey, pal!" He yelled towards Ema, "I think I found who we were looking for!"

 Hours had passed like until the hues of the sky started to change from blue to orange as the sun began to dip behind the clouds. As far as he was concerned; Simon hadn't minded Klavier's pacing around his office for all that time. Honestly, he had rather the German was pacing around in his office, where Simon could keep an eye on him, than off doing lord knows what to try and find Mary.

When Klavier's phone finally rang, he leaped from the chair at Simon's desk where he had been sitting since the pacing had tired him out. He almost dropped the phone, and then watched it ring for a few moments before reaching it out to Simon in a nonverbal plea.

Simon just gave a soft, understanding huff, holding out his hand and answering the call as soon as the phone was dropped in his open palm.

"Gavin-san's phone, this is Blackquill speaking."

“This is Ema; Uhm, would you mind putting me on speakerphone?”

Simon obliged, turning the phone to speaker and putting it down on the desk as Klavier made his way around and sat down on the chair. He seriously thought his heart was going to leap out of his chest in pure anxiety.

“So, uh, I have good news and I have bad news, what do you want to hear first?”

“The good news,” Klavier huffed, not reassured in the slightest by how the conversation was going.

“Well,” Ema started, actually rather unsure as to how to break this to the two people on the other side of the phone line.

“The good news is that we found Ms Light.”

Klavier let out the biggest sigh of relief he ever felt in his life, falling back in his chair as a whole lot of anxiety dropped off his shoulders in one fell swoop. Simon, however, still had a certain amount of hesitation to his posture. That was the good news, sure, but stated in that way it often meant... well..

“And the bad news?”

“.... She’s-” Ema started, biting the inner part of her cheek. Oh, there was absolutely no easy way around this.

“Being taken in as... the prime suspect of a murder.”

She could hear the dead silence on the other end of the call, as Simon’s face dropped in pure shock. He felt his body jerk a little in surprise when a few moments later, after this bombshell bit of information had reached him, Klavier’s chair moved with a croak. His hands dropped from his face, arms on the speaker that he used as a make shift desk in front of him, his expression unreadable as it clearly took another moment to fully sink in.

And Simon swore the glass of the window pane actually trembled from the high, sharp pitch of the German’s voice when he finally replied to what Ema had said with

“... What?!”

[klbwriting]

Unexpected Allies - Chapter 10

Fandom: Six of Crows

Pairing: Kaz/female!Reader

Summary: Kaz finally gets some revenge

Warnings: mentions of torture and some nudity, but no smut

Notes: ok, so I didn’t write out a torture scene, I just left it to the imagination because I cannot do justice to the type of havoc Kaz would reek on Rollins.  Also, there is some nudity in this but no smut, I do have the reader cleaning Kaz though and I tried hard to make sure it sounded and felt right with where their relationship is at so don’t expect anything sexy in this chapter at all

              Y/N had left Kaz’s tent a little after 10 bells. She started walking around asking about Rollins and where he would be, making sure she talked some shit about the Dregs in the process.  She wanted this to seem completely her thing.  This led her to the back of the drinking tent where he was relieving himself.  She waited; her face crinkled in disgust.  She couldn’t believe she was going to let him touch her. She understood just a sliver of how Kaz must feel when anyone touches him at that moment.  It wasn’t nearly the same, but she was sure that he must have felt nasuas all the time, she would have to tell him that he really could take his time with touching her if this was how it was.  Finally, Rollins turned around the saw her watching him.

              “So, ditching the Dregs little lady?” he asked, walking over. He smelled like he took a bath in kvas and it made her hold her breath as she smiled at him.

              “They didn’t appreciate what I did so I ditched the Dregs, they’re no fun.  I heard you were fun, thought maybe you’d want to see a little place I have out of the camp,” she offered, looking up at him from hooded lids.  He smiled like he won a prize and threw a bulky arm around her shoulders, letting her lead him.  

              As they walked, he whispered in her ear, kissed her head, and smelled her hair.  It took everything in her to not vomit and when the hut came into sight, she quickened her step.  By that time Rollins had worked himself into an excited frenzy and threw open the cabin door and pushed her in, slamming the door.  Rollins hauled off and punched her in the face as soon as the door shut, knocking her to the ground.  For a moment she was terrified, thinking that Kaz hadn’t come, and that Rollins was going to try and kill her, then a crack rang out and Rollins fell to the ground and Kaz was standing there, cane aloft again in case the first hit hadn’t subdued him.

                Kaz looked at Y/N, seeing her face cut from the hit Rollins had given her and he knelt down next to her.  He reached out, hand settling on her shoulder gently, squeezing.  He held it there until she told him she was ok and then he snapped it back.  Progress, slow progress.  

              Once he knew she was alright he turned his attention back to Rollins.  He was moving to get him tied to the table but before he could muster up the courage to actually move him Y/N was up and moving.  She put him on the table and tied his hands and feet.  Kaz looked at her and nodded.  Then he looked at the door.  He knew that she would stay and watch all of this with him, but this was private, something just for him and Rollins.  If he was completely honest with himself, he would admit that he also wanted her to not him like this, Dirtyhands out and on display.  He didn’t want her to see how much of a monster he was inside, that part was going to be kept away from her.

              “Kaz, I’ll stay if you want,” she said.  Kaz shook his head.

              “No, please, I don’t want you to see this. This is between me, Rollins, and the ghost of my brother,” he said.  She nodded.

              “There’s a stream nearby, it may be freezing but I’ll be there cleaning up,” she said.  Kaz nodded and made sure she was gone before he started, bringing forth all of the things that he had been planning since he was 9 years old.  Rollins had a debt to pay and Kaz Brekker was going to cash him in.

                Y/N had stripped completely and slid into the water. It was just around waist high and felt like she was going to freeze to death, but she needed to scrub every inch of her body and get the feeling on his hands off of her.  She could hear screams coming from where the hut was and the devil that lived in her heart smiled.  Good, let the scumbag suffer for what he had done to Kaz.   Y/N had pieced together an idea of what had happened.  She was guessing that Kaz had an older brother at one time and that when they were young Rollins had killed him in some manner, something that made Kaz how he was, had almost broken him in his mind.   Y/N could never think of Kaz as broken, but she knew that’s what he thought of himself.  He didn’t have to speak for her to know most of his thoughts, their understanding of each other ran deep and was one of the things that she loved about him.  They could speak without words and it was amazing.  

              A sound broke her from her thoughts, and she looked up to see Kaz standing on shore, covered in blood.  He started stripping quick, climbing into the water himself and scrubbing.  He was tense, almost an animalistic frenzy to his movements as he tried to rinse himself off. Y/N walked over and almost touched him but stopped.

              “Kaz,” she said, her voice once again seeming to break through to him.  He looked at her, eyes still maniacal, a crazed smile on his face.  His hands hadn’t stopped scrubbing his chest and it was starting to get red.  

              “I did it, I made him suffer like he made Jordie suffer,” he said, the smile getting bigger.   Y/N nodded and smiled back at him.  “I…why does it hurt.”  He looked down seeing that he had scrubbed so hard that he was bleeding.  

              “I can help you, but I’m going to have to touch you,” she said.  He looked at her and for a moment she thought he was going to tell her to leave him but then he slumped a little and nodded.  He was exhausted and the adrenaline of the kill was leaving his body.  She picked up her coat and ripped some off the bottom and dipped it in the water and as gently as could she wiped it over his chest, getting the last bits of blood off.  

              “I don’t think I’ve ever really seen a woman naked before,” Kaz said suddenly.  She laughed and looked at him.  “I should be closing my eyes, shouldn’t I?”  She rolled her eyes at him.  

              “O please, once you hatch a torture and murder plot together seeing each other naked it the next logical step,” she said. “Can I clean your face too?  Or is that too much?”

                “Start and I’ll let you know,” he said, standing still.  She gently wiped his face and he breathed deeply to keep himself calm. He felt a little off with her touch on his bare cheeks, but he wasn’t sick from it, in time the off feeling might even go away.  After a few minutes he waved a hand and she stopped, tossing the rag aside.  She took a step back and they both just stared at each other, taking in each other’s forms.  Kaz slowly studied her stomach and found that he liked the roundness of it, leading to large hips that he wanted so badly to wrapped around him. That thought made him start seeing bodies again so he pushed it away for another day.  He let his eyes move up past her breasts and to her face, arguably the part he liked best about her.  Her face was round and just so full of life and light, something he wished that he had sometimes.  

              “You have to be the most gorgeous man I have ever seen,” Y/N said after a time, meeting his eyes again.  He felt himself blush a little as they moved to the shore to dress again.  The headed back to the hut where she lit Rollins on fire and let his body burn. They watched together for a few minutes before going back to his tent and climbing into bed.  

              “You know most ladies would talk their man out of killing someone,” Kaz said, looking at her.  He noticed how she always left her hand outstretched to him and tonight he squeezed her hand once before pulling away.  “You have a heart of steel love, bulletproof.”   Y/N laughed.

              “If my heart is bulletproof then you have a hollowpoint smile, shot right through my heart in seconds,” she said, staring at him. She sat in thought for a minute, and he laughed.

              “Something on your mind?” he asked.  She nodded.

              “More of your song just came to me,” she said.  He sat up on his elbow and looked at her confused. She was writing a song for him? He never thought he would be the type that people wrote songs about and he was flattered.  

              “Can…can I hear it?” he asked.  She shook her head.  “Why not?”

              “It’s not finished; I won’t let you hear it until its done.  When it is, you’ll be the first person I find,” she said, yawning near the end.  She closed her eyes, and he watched her drift off to sleep.  Kaz had to admit that tonight she had earned her blood-soaked crown and in his mind no one else would ever take it from her.  She was his queen now.

[calumthoodshands]

Hi officer yes this is the one this post right here

https://calmfolklore.tumblr.com/post/644320489846849536/%E1%B4%97

created by the lovely codie! Fun fact this is the first 5sos post I ever reblogged clearly I have always had incredible taste. Also you don't know how many 5sos themed cakes I just found while looking for a photo for you. Anyway! Shutting up now! Have fun <3

Oh god team. Thank you. I guess. For anyone who wants to know what the post is i’m linking it here. Let’s go!

Okay so this fic is a little more sad because i’m me and the boys are the boys. Things is, they haven’t been on stage in two years because of the pandemic. Calum knows that luke doesn’t have stage fright, but he knows that luke is incredibly nervous about going back on stage, especially after such a long time, and especially after it came out that he and calum had… a thing going on while everything had been slowed down for months. Hey, it was bound to happen. Calum stayed too often at luke’s, luke stayed too often at calum’s, and maybe those childhood crushes they’ve had for each other never really completely faded away. So it happened. They kept it lowkey for the most part, they tried not to be obvious when they were around, but it was hard when you wanted to hold your boyfriends hand, ok? It wasn’t calum’s fault that luke always had warm hands that could warm up his cold ones. So the big secret came out when they got caught in a park where luke gave a lying down calum just a quick peck on the lips, but it was enough to send the media and foremost the fandom into a frenzy. And so now the attention was on them heavily, and while no one seemed to mind that they were gay, or in a relationship, luke was still anxious about actually having to face people. Not just social media strangers, but actual people who would come to their comeback concert. And the night before, he made the worst mistake of going on the wrong side of twitter, and he sees. All the tweets of people who insult them, or him or calum specifically, who tell other people not to go the show and support f***, and he breaks down bad. He spends the whole night crying and panicking over it, and calum tries his best to calm him down, but the minutes before the show, he can see luke’s fingers trembling, his face pale, drops of sweat already glistening on his temples as they wait to get on stage, the crowd outside already loud and singing.

“It’s gonna be okay, luke,” he tells him even though he knows it doesn’t do much. Maybe it does, luke doesn’t say anything, but he also doesn’t pull back when calum takes his hand to squeeze it. “You’re luke hemmings. Lead singer of 5sos, one of the most successful bands right now. You’re not going to let these stupid assfucks ruin the comeback concert of the year for you, you hear me?” The ‘assfucks’ makes luke laugh a little, and his shoulders aren’t as tense anymore, and he nods when ashton asks if they’re all ready. And they go on stage… and it’s like nothing ever changed. And yes, calum looks over to him for reassurance a bit more often in the beginning, but when he sees luke beaming in the spotlights, shining like an angel in that white shirt and with his shiny curls, singing back to the crowd with a wide smile and playing like he’s never been more alive, calum relaxes and let’s himself go as well. And it goes wonderfully, even if it takes everything from them. Luke is absolutely exhausted afterwards, he gave his all and calum knows it, admires it, because he knows no one who gives so much of themselves on stage like luke, so when they’ve bowed and said goodbye and walk off the stage, calum just pulls him in for a hug, and luke falls against him completely while calum just whispers to him “you were amazing”, pulling him close and not letting go until they’re off the stage.

Luke keeps a bit of a distance from social media after that, and the next time they’re waiting backstage to step in front of crowd, luke kisses him, just because. “Thank you,” he tells calum, none of the weight from last time weighing on his shoulders. “For what?” Calum would ask, and luke would shrug with a smile. “Being there for me.” He’d glance at calum, who wasn’t really sure what to do with that, but he didn’t mind being confused if luke was happy like this, so he followed him onto stage and just enjoyed that warm and fuzzy feeling in his stomach every time he and luke locked eyes while singing. And that feeling got even stronger when luke came over to him while it was calum’s verse, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Calum was pretty sure the screaming of the fans destroyed his eardrums right there and then, that his happy grin would hurt hours later still, but he didn’t mind at all, not if everything was as it should be. That day after the final bow, Luke is grinning from ear to ear when calum hugs him on their way off stage, and presses a kiss to his temple, and calum doesn’t let go of him even after they’ve left the stage.

New ask game!

[spencereliotwinchester]

Red Stud (Part 1/3)

Title: Red Stud

Author:  Kat

Reader Gender:  N/A

Word Count: 8700

Summary: A look at how Jensen met Misha and began their journey. Partner to Submissive but can be read by itself. 

Warnings: AU, Sub!Jensen, Dom!Misha, Humiliation!Kink, 

A/N:  Seriously, not for the faint of heart. No hate. Inspiration belongs to @impala-dreamer

Thank you to @deansbxtch for being my beta

Character: Jensen Ackles x Misha Collins

--

Tags: 

@dr-dean @drarina1737 @zombitch-cas @teamfreewill92 @winecatsandpizza @bees0are0awesome @sierra-grace1227 @chenshemesh1 @weepinghollywoodatsupernatural @im-in-every-fandom-fangirl @rosescarlett @pandazombie69

--

“What are you doing this weekend, Jensen?” Jared asked as they walked to their ten a.m. biology class. 

“Nothing. Maybe doing that ‘American Ideals’ paper for the capstone class,” Jensen responded, heaving his backpack into a more comfortable position. “Why did we take half our classes on Friday?” 

“To have Mondays and Tuesdays off,” Jared laughed. “Anyway, there’s a rave happening at this club I know of. Wanna go?” 

“A rave? Like, an actual rave, not a house party?” 

“Yeah! They have strippers until Midnight, then it turns into a Rave. It goes until the morning I’ve heard. They also have some BDSM rooms, supposedly, but you have to be a member to go in there.”

“What’s the cover?” Jensen asked. 

“Fifty,” Jared said. 

“That’s cheap for Vegas.”

“That’s the whole point! Anyway, what do you think?” 

“As long as you don’t kidnap me into a BDSM room, I’m fine,” Jensen joked. 

“Ugh,” Jensen groaned. The taste in his mouth made his stomach turn over. It was like something had crawled in there and died. He sat up, careful to extract himself from the unknown man in his bed. His ass still had a dull throb from the previous night. 

Slowly getting out of his bed, careful not to wake up his partner from last night, Jensen made his way to the bathroom of the apartment he shared with Jared. He could hear the sounds of throwing up from inside. 

“Jare, I’m coming in to brush my teeth!” He hollered, opening the door. 

Jared wasn’t the one in the bathroom. A brunette was heaving over the toilet. 

“Oh, shit, sorry!” He said. She looked over at him. 

“You’re naked,” She stated. 

“Sorry,” he said again, and shut the door. 

The door to the apartment opened and Jared came down the hall with a drink holder of coffee. He handed one coffee to Jensen, who took it with a word of thanks and took a drink. 

“Still throwing up?” He asked, nodding to the bathroom. 

“Uh, yeah,” Jensen responded. “I’m gonna go put on pants.” 

As he pulled on a pair of soft sweatpants, the man still in Jensen’s bed stretched and then sat up. Jensen handed him his coffee. The man took a deep drink and handed it back. 

“Thanks,” he said, getting up and stretching again. “What a party, eh?”

“Wild,” Jensen agreed. The man’s deep voice and electric blue eyes brought a memory of last night to Jensen’s mind. 

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard. I’ll bet that’s all you want, filthy slut!”

“Yes, Sir! Please fuck me!”

“Oh, fuck, it’s nearly three!” 

He stood up and quickly dressed, gathering the pieces of clothing that had been tossed into various parts of the room. 

“Got any cologne I can borrow?” He asked. 

“Yeah, on the dresser,” Jensen responded, watching the man get dressed. When the man came up to him, Jensen realized he was nearly as tall as he was, with dark, disheveled hair, and those electric blue eyes that made Jensen feel as though he could see right through him. 

“Thanks for last night,” He whispered, Jensen smirked and they kissed.

“See ya around,” Jensen said when they broke apart, though he knew he wouldn’t. 

“That party was insane,” Jared said as they sat down on the couch in the small living room. 

“I don’t remember much,” Jensen grunted.

“You’ll get some pieces back like usual.” 

“Did we… Take anything?” He asked. 

“Besides a shit load of alcohol? I don’t think so,” Jared responded absently, scrolling on his phone. “Why?” 

“Just wondering.”

“We gotta do that again,” Jared sighed, happily. 

“I won’t,” a female voice said. The girl had come around the corner, purse in her hand. “Sorry for spewing my guts out.” 

“You okay?” Jared asked. 

“Yeah. I’m gonna go,” She turned to Jensen. “You should get on a pole more often.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“You don’t remember?” She asked, then continued. “You got up on stage and swung yourself around the pole like you’d been doing it for years.” 

“I did what?” He asked, incredulous. Jared snickered. 

“It was pretty awesome,” Jared muttered.

“Shut the hell up!”

A few days later, he got a text from an unknown number. He was studying in the library. 

I can’t stop thinking about you stretched around my cock, those green eyes rolling up into your head.

He looked around, worried, but no one was nearby. 

Who is this? 

It could be any of his one night stands from the last few weeks.

I’m offended, we had such a good time the other night! - Sir M

It must be that blue eyed man he met at Frenzy. What did he say his name was? It had been something strange. Another message came through. 

You were such a good slut for me. I’d love to have you for myself. - Sir M

Jensen blushed to himself. He didn’t usually sleep with the same person twice. He thought briefly about making an exception. It had been an amazing night. Most of the pieces of the night had come back. The blue eyed stranger had dominated over him, easily taking complete control of their time together. Jensen had thoroughly enjoyed it. As the memories floated to the forefront of his mind, Jensen could feel that his cock was hardening. Another message. 

I’ll bet you’re so hot and bothered right now, thinking about the way I owned you. - Sir M

Jensen finally texted back.

Yes, Sir.  

It became tradition, each month Jensen and Jared would go to a Rave night at Frenzy. They would stay until the place shut down at 5 a.m. and then crash until late afternoon. Sometimes they brought dates home, sometimes not. Sir M and Jensen continued to message each other. Sir M could be very domineering, even over a simple text and it sent thrills of excitement through Jensen’s body.

About a week after his one night stand with Sir M, Jensen walked into the studio shyly, it was his first time here. He’d been curious about pole dancing ever since that girl had told him how well he’d done. 

“Shoes off please!” The teacher, Jaz, behind the desk said sharply. “No outside shoes on the studio floor. Please sign this waiver and set your yoga mat down next to one of the poles.” 

Jensen ended up loving pole dancing, going to class three times a week in between his college classes and working a part time job. One day after class, about six months later, Jaz called his name as he was walking out the door. 

“Yeah?” He said, walking over to her, his bag slung over his shoulder and a yoga mat in his hands. 

“You’re still pretty new, but I know you like to go to Frenzy every so often. They get a lot of their talent from this studio and they’re holding closed auditions for a new male act. I was wondering if you wanted to audition? You’re one of my only male students and I think I have just the song for you.” 

Jensen stood there for a moment, his mouth hanging open. 

“Oh, I don’t know,” He said eventually, “I mainly do this for fun-”

“Strippers there, especially males, make upwards of $500 a night.” 

That was more than Jensen was making now, way more. He thought for a few moments, then relented. 

“Let me know what to do.” 

Three Saturdays in a row, he practiced one on one for three hours with Jaz. On the fourth Saturday, they ran through the entire routine twice. Jensen was sore, tired, and out of breath. 

“You’re ready,” Jaz said excitedly. “I think you’ll take the job easy.” 

“You… Sure?” Jensen said between gulps of air. 

“I’m damn sure. You’ll knock ‘em dead this afternoon!” She gave Jensen a quick hug and began to ready the studio for her next class. “Make sure you drink plenty of water-”

“And eat plenty of protein,” Jensen finished, rolling his eyes in mock annoyance. “I know.” 

That afternoon, Jensen arrived outside Frenzy at 1:30. Auditions started at 2. He showed his paperwork to the bouncer at the door and was let in. The place was a little unnerving when it was mostly empty and the lights were all on. He made his way towards the Rave Hall and saw a check-in table. He walked up to the two women. One looked up as he approached.

“Here for an interview for the bouncer positions?” She asked. 

“Uh.. no,” he said, caught slightly off guard. “I have an audition for pole dancing.” 

“Oh,” she said, surprised. “Sorry! Um, name?” 

“Ackles,” He said. 

“Got it. Locker rooms are that way,” She pointed. “Follow the signs. They’re still doing female auditions, so they may be running slightly late. Do you have a song?” 

“Yeah,” he handed over a CD with his name and audition number on it, then made his way to the locker rooms. 

As he got dressed, his nerves started to send butterflies to his stomach. He pulled on a pair of tight black cycling shorts and a plain black t-shirt. He had decided to go barefoot for this audition. From the information he had received, there would be a panel of judges and they would ask him a few questions before he danced. Jensen noticed as he waited for his name to be called that most people were doing slow and sensual songs, sometimes even emo. This made him slightly more nervous since Jaz had chosen a fast song for him. 

“Next up is Ackles! Ackles to the stage!” 

Jensen took a deep breath and then stepped out of the curtain onto the stage. He stood next to the pole and blanched slightly. It seemed like most of the auditioners were staying in the room after they’d auditioned to see the rest of the performers. Jensen only saw three other men in the audience. Then he looked at the panel of judges. Two men and a woman sat there. 

The man in the middle had electric blue eyes. Electric blue eyes that made Jensen feel as though he could see right through him. Electric blue eyes that Jensen recognized. Sir M. It knocked the breath clean out of him. 

“You used your real name?” The bearded man asked, rolling his eyes. “What’s your stage name?” 

“I..I don’t have one,” Jensen stuttered, shrugging. 

“Oh boy,” he said in annoyance. “Any tattoo-”

“Red Stud,” the blue eyed man interrupted. 

“What?” the bearded man snapped. “Collins, are you in-”

“No, I’m just giving him a stage name. Red hair and just look at those muscles! Yummy.” 

“Red Stud, I guess it works,” The man turned back to Jensen. “Tattoos?” 

“N-No,” Jensen sputtered, he started to think this had been a mistake. He grabbed the pole, noticing it was on spin. He could do the routine either way, but doing it on spin was harder. 

“Why do you want this job?” The woman asked, speaking for the first time. 

“I love to dance,” Jensen said smoothly, he was aware his voice had become more even and slightly huskier. “I can dance, and I want to make money doing what I love.” 

“Well, I think we’d love to see!” Sir M clapped his hands together. “Go on.”  

I saw him dancin' there by the record machine

I knew he must a been about seventeen

The beat was goin' strong

Playin' my favorite song

And I could tell it wouldn't be long

'Til he was with me, yeah, me

And I could tell it wouldn't be long

'Til he was with me, yeah, me, singin'

As soon as the music started,  Jensen felt right at home. As if he were back in the studio practicing with Jaz. The loud guitar strums and drum set blasted through the speakers and Jensen opened “I Love Rock N’ Roll” by flexing his biceps, rolling his hips, and showing off his muscles, visible even under the t-shirt, to the various parts of the room. People started clapping along with the beat. When the lyrics started, he climbed the pole to the top, stopping at the end of each line to do various hangs to show off his strength, flowing with the hard rock. 

I love rock n' roll

So put another dime in the jukebox, baby

I love rock n' roll

So come and take your time and dance with me

Ow

Once he reached the top of the pole, the chorus started and Jensen folded over and around the pole, holding an attitude position before quickly hip-switching to a sundial. He pulled up and inverted into a Fang, spinning quickly with the music before doing a cartwheel dismount. 

He smiled, so I got up and asked for his name

"That don't matter", he said, "'cause it's all the same"

I said, "Can I take you home where we can be alone?"

And next we were movin' on

He was with me, yeah, me

Next we were movin' on

He was with me, yeah, me singin'

He pole walked once, before unveiling his next climb. Jaz had spent the majority of their first session teaching him this complex no legs, hand-over-hand climb until Jensen could do it perfectly without falling. Jensen was surprised to hear cheers. He climbed, doing a pull up at the end of each line of music until he was at the top of the pole again. He quickly maneuvered into a cross-legged sit so his arms were free.

I love rock n' roll

So put another dime in the jukebox, baby

I love rock n' roll

So come and take your time and dance with me

Ow

Jensen tore his shirt in half splitting it down his chest, then took it off and flung it at the blue eyed judge. He then inverted into a crucifix and nose dived down the pole. Jensen gracefully dismounted as the music faded. He took a bow to the cheering audience before turning his attention towards the judges. Jensen became all too aware of the sheen of sweat covering his face and chest and felt his cheeks reddening - it had nothing to do with the workout he’d just done and everything to do with Sir M staring at him. 

“I...I thought Jaz said you were new to pole dancing,” the woman said in awe. 

“I mean, I’ve only been pole dancing for about six months,” Jensen responded, shrugging. “Should I go?” 

“Can you dance like that tonight?” Sir M asked, his voice deep and vibrating. 

“I- What?” 

“Can. You. Dance. Like that. Tonight?” He asked again, more slowly, like Jensen was hard of hearing. 

“I’d need a new black t-shirt… but yeah, I can,” Jensen felt even more blood rushing to his face. 

“Then the job is yours. You’re on at midnight,” the bearded man said. “Be here no later than 11.”

As he was walking out, he heard his name called. Turning, he was shocked to see Jared. 

“Since when do you dance?” 

“Six months or so,” Jensen said, looking away from Jared. 

“Dude, you’re insanely good!”

“Uh...Thanks. Why are you here?” 

“Got hired as a bouncer!” He said excitedly. 

“Dude, that’s awesome!” Jensen exclaimed. “I gotta go call Jazzy and tell her I got the dance slot and then get ready for tonight.” 

“I’ll see you tonight! It’s my first night too.” 

Jensen was able to meet most of the other dancers that night in the locker room. It turned out that there were only three other male dancers, so everyone shared one locker room. A girl came up to Jensen. She was dressed in a red thong and red corset. She had blonde hair that was curled in large spirals. He recognized her as the female judge from earlier. 

“Hi, Red,” She said, smacking some gum and winking at him. 

“Hey,” He nodded. 

“Come on, I’m gonna show you the ropes and rules. I’m Cherie by the way. So, tonight. They’re just going to have you open the Rave with your routine, but people will still throw tips at you. Each of us also has a jar at the bar where people can place tips, too. Don’t forget to empty it before you leave for the night. If you have any problems with patrons on the floor, grab one of the bouncers. After a couple weeks, you might do some dancing for tips, or they might have you out on the floor to do lap dances and such. I dunno, Mish will let you know.” 

“‘Mish?’” Jensen asked. 

“Misha Collins?” She looked at him incredulously. “Big blue eyes, stubbled jaw, orgasm inducing voice?” 

“Oh, him.” 

“Yeah, him. Let's get some makeup on you.”

Jensen fidgeted as midnight approached. His butterflies were even bigger now and he worried he’d mess up the entire routine. As the acts neared his, the music got faster. Cherie was just before him in the lineup, her song started, ‘Cherry Pie’ by Warrant. Jensen warmed his body and put grip aid on his hands. Cherie came through the curtain. She had removed the corset during her act and was down to her red thong and pasties. 

“Good luck, Red,” She winked at him. 

He swallowed hard and entered the stage through the curtain. A few whistles met him. 

“Please welcome to the stage, our newest dancer. His debut performance right here, right now! RED STUD!” the emcee announced. 

‘I Love Rock N’ Roll’ started and Jensen began his routine. He only slipped once and it was barely noticeable. Cheers and applause met him and he bowed. Then, he quickly picked up the cash tips that had been tossed onstage and exited. He’d made nearly $250 from tips he’d picked up off the stage.

Jensen made his way to the bar after he put on another black shirt from his locker. The lights shut off completely and black light turned on. Glow sticks lit up the room. A thumping bass beat blared through the speaker. Jensen sat down at the bar in an open seat and waited for the bartender to see him. The bartender came over to him. 

“What can I get ya?” He yelled over the thick bass beat. 

“Shot of whiskey!” He yelled back. As he went to hand over a ten, a hand caught him. Jensen turned to see Misha standing right next to him. He was wearing a red t-shirt that was a size too small and stretched dangerously over his shoulders. Up close, Jensen was able to see just how handsome the man- Misha- really was. 

“On the house!” He yelled to the bartender. “And make it two!” 

Jensen and Misha tapped glasses and took the shots together. After four more shots each, Jensen was feeling much more free and relaxed. Misha tapped his hand against his shoulder. 

“Come with me!” He yelled. 

Misha dragged Jensen into the Rave and they began to dance together. After the second song they were both drenched in sweat and the alcohol was really hitting Jensen’s head. He hadn’t eaten anything in a few hours. Misha raised his hand to his mouth and swallowed. Then raised his hand to his mouth again. This time he grabbed Jensen’s face and began kissing him. Jensen opened his mouth in surprise and Misha shoved his tongue in and Jensen felt a small pill. Guessing what it was, he swallowed and continued to make out with Misha. 

Within ten minutes, the drug was taking effect. Jensen began to feel remarkably loose, happy and floaty. Misha was grinding against his ass and Jensen didn’t mind one bit. The music thrummed heavily through his head, his heart speeding up to match the rapid music. The bass beat dropped and Misha was reaching around palming Jensen’s half hard cock through the shorts he was wearing. His moan was lost in the music as he leaned back into Misha’s solid body. 

Then, Misha was pulling him along, through the waves of people. They reached a door on the other side and Misha pushed him through it. They were in a back hallway and Misha pushed Jensen into another room. The lights flicked on. Noise was completely silenced when the door closed but Jensen’s head pounded with the remnants of the bass line. 

“Should we be in here?” Jensen asked, eyes widening as he took in the sight of the room. It was a smaller room, but it was beautiful and dangerous. The walls were red, the carpet was plush and black. A few sex toys were scattered around and Jensen could only imagine what was in the armoire at the other side of the room. There was also a double bed in the corner behind the door. 

“It’s my private room,” Misha said. 

“A private room?” 

Misha came up behind him and began kissing and nipping at his neck. Misha grabbed the hem of Jensen’s shirt and dragged it over his head before going back to kissing his neck. Jensen moaned lightly. 

“Owning the place does have its perks,” Misha growled, his voice low and lust-filled. 

Jensen turned to face Misha and pulled the other man’s shirt off. Misha pulled Jensen over to the bed and pushed him down on it. As Misha kicked his jeans off and leaned down on top of Jensen, something clicked into place. 

“Are you a Dom?” Jensen asked. 

“You could most certainly say that,” Misha laughed. 

“I’ve never really… Except that night with you and I don’t remember everything.” 

“Well, it’s up to you, but I promise I’ll make it worth it if you stay, Boy,” the voice slipped down a few notes and Misha reached a hand into Jensen’s hair and pulled lightly. A rush of pleasure flowed through his body. Jensen moaned. “What are your limits?” 

“Nothing too crazy, I’m, uh, pretty vanilla you could say.” 

“Vanilla it is, but next time we do things my way,” Misha smirked before kissing Jensen again. Blood rushed to his face and his cock, making his brain spin. He laughed into Misha’s mouth, the feeling of euphoria enveloping him again. 

--

As Jensen began to swim into consciousness, he squeezed his eyes shut more tightly. His head was pounding, his muscles ached, his ass hurt, and his mouth was as dry as the deserts surrounding Las Vegas. Slowly, he opened his eyes and looked around the room. He had no idea where he was. The room was lit softly through thick curtains. The walls were a cool grey and matched the bedding. An unopened water bottle was sitting on the nightstand and Jensen grabbed it, cracking it open and taking a deep drink. 

“I was thinking I was going to have to come wake you up. It’s nearly five,” Misha’s voice startled Jensen, and he looked around to see Misha standing in the doorway. 

“I’d have been up at three if you hadn’t slipped me Ecstasy,” Jensen grumbled. “Where are my clothes?” 

Misha walked over to the closet and stepped inside. He threw a shirt and a pair of jeans on the bed. 

“You only had on those pole shorts when we came home,” Misha answered. “Take those. They should fit okay.” 

Jensen got out of bed and stumbled sideways. Misha caught him. He became suddenly dizzy and shut his eyes trying to clear the feeling before it made him hurl. 

“You okay?” Misha asked. 

“Just a bit dizzy… Stood up too fast,” Jensen grunted. He slowly put weight back on his legs and got dressed in Misha’s clothes. They smelled like leather and cologne. An image of Misha pushing his cock into Jensen’s mouth came to mind. 

“We should get some food in you,” Misha said. “Do you want to have dinner with me?” 

“Sure,” Jensen said, his stomach snarling at the thought. 

--

“Everything okay?” Misha asked. 

“When you said ‘have dinner’ I thought you meant a dive bar or a diner or something…”

“Oh no, Sweetness, when I dine, I dine in style.” 

“I’m not really appropriate-” Misha cut him off. 

“Nonsense. Come on.” 

The maitre’d greeted Misha by name and led them all the way to the back of the restaurant to a private booth. A waitress dropped off water, smiling at them before gliding away to the kitchen. Jensen fiddled with the menu, slightly uncomfortable. 

“What’s wrong?” Misha asked in his low, gravelly voice. 

“Just nervous,” Jensen mumbled. 

“Listen, about last night-” It was Jensen’s turn to cut off Misha. 

“I don’t regret anything.”

“Well… Good, then,” Misha said. “Are you good to go on tonight?” 

“Of course,” Jensen waved a hand at Misha.

The waitress arrived with an appetizer. 

“The usual, Sir?” She asked Misha. He nodded, then the waitress turned to Jensen, but Misha interjected. 

“Let me order for you.” It wasn’t a question. 

Jensen, shocked, nodded at him jerkily. Misha whispered into the waitresses ear and she gave him a nod before vanishing again. He turned back to Jensen, and put a hand on his scruffy face. Jensen suddenly had butterflies in his stomach again. 

“So what are you into?” Jensen blurted out the question. 

“Huh?” 

“You know, like you have a private room at Frenzy- Hell, you OWN Frenzy. You’re a Dom, you asked my limits…” Jensen trailed off. 

“I’m into things you couldn’t even dream of,” He said, darkly. Jensen shivered. It was strange, the way Misha could make him feel both scared and aroused at the same time. “But for the most part I’m into Dom/sub.”

“Like, whips and chains and ‘Master’?” Misha chuckled at the look on Jensen’s face.

“I’m more into the relationship, the power exchange, not the punishments, and I prefer to be called ‘Sir,’” He responded. “You know nothing of BDSM if you’ve just watched porn.” 

Misha began explaining the mechanics and the true BDSM scene. Jensen became much more interested, and aroused, as Misha explained the true relationship between Dominants and their submissives. He never figured this sort of scene would be up his alley, but the way Misha had made Jensen beg for release last night… 

“You’ve barely touched your food,” Misha stated. “Eat.”

Jensen did so. Misha smirked at him, his eyes were filled with lust and approval. 

“What?” He asked. 

“You absentmindedly enjoy being told what to do. I just had a very intriguing thought,” Misha said in a hushed voice. 

“What?” Jensen was even more confused. 

“Let me introduce you to being submissive. I think we’d be a good match. We like each other and damn you’re just yummy. I can’t get enough of you.” 

Jensen looked down at his mostly empty plate, his mind was hesitant, but his cock was thoroughly interested in the idea of having sex with Misha again. 

“Try it,” Misha pressed. “If you don’t like it, no harm no foul… But I think you’ll fall in love with it.” 

“Fine,” Jensen relented, telling himself he could try something new. “We should get going. I need to go home and shower. I also need to work out a little. I missed my afternoon class today.” 

“Want a ride home?” Misha asked. 

“That would be welcome,” Jensen whispered.

Jensen finally got back to Frenzy at ten pm. He opened his locker and saw a jar of tips. The jar from the bar. Jensen groaned, knowing he would probably be in trouble with the bartender for forgetting to pick them up. He then pulled his phone out of his locker to check it. He had a message from Sir M. 

I need you to open and close the dance acts next weekend. Open with a slow, sensual song for me? Then close with your regular routine. Next week you work Wednesday thru Sunday. W & Th & Sun 7p - 3a.m. Fr & Sat 7pm - 12:15 am, then you’ll join me in the Member’s Club -Sir M

He immediately texted Jazzy to find out if she could help him with a new routine. 

We can practice this week, I’ve got a good one for you. I’m here btw! To see you perform. 

That week was one of the hardest of his life. He even skipped a few classes at the college trying to get some rest between the club, school, practicing a completely new song, and texting Misha. He barely even saw Jared except at Frenzy. 

Friday evening came and Jensen was a ball of wrecked nerves. He was exhausted, but got a jolt of excitement at the thought of performing a slow song just for Misha. The emcee was beginning to announce the acts and Jensen’s whole body buzzed with nervous excitement. 

“Let’s open up with Red Stud!” The emcee yelled. 

Jensen took the stage and a few whistles broke out above the chattering crowd. He sat down in front of the pole, back pressed against it and nodded toward the emcee. “You’re the Best” by Wet played through the speakers as Jensen began to go through the choreography Jazzy taught him. It was slow and sensual, just what Misha had asked for. Most of the choreo had him on the floor, using the pole as just a prop, instead of being on it the entire time. He ended the song on the floor, in a shoulder mount with his legs split. People clapped, cheered, and whistled. Jensen collected the money on the stage and went back to the locker room, to rest and get ready for the closing act. 

After the closing act, Jensen got a t-shirt on and went out into the now Rave Room. As he approached the bar, he saw Misha talking to a few patrons. One girl was draped over his shoulder and a hotness spread through Jensen’s body. Jealousy. They had never said they’d be exclusive, Jensen reasoned, but he still wanted to toss the girl into what was now becoming a mosh pit. 

He grabbed a couple shots from the bartender, downing one right after the other. His eyes were trained on Misha at the other end of the bar, the jealousy burning through his veins, just like the whiskey he’d shot down. He finally shoved himself from the bar, deciding he could play the same game. He disappeared into the rave to find a partner for the evening. 

As he was grinding with a stranger, he felt a hand fist the back of his shirt and yanked him back. Jensen was shocked, he looked around and saw Misha was the one who had his shirt. He was surprised at the roughness and then saw the look on Misha’s face. 

His jaw was clenched and eyes were narrowed in anger. There was fury written into his face. He caught Misha’s eye for just a moment and saw only rage in the flashing blue. Misha shoved him through the same door as last weekend and into his private room. 

“Think you’re funny?!” Misha spat as all other sound was drowned out. Jensen opened his mouth but a single flash of Misha’s eyes and his voice died in his throat. “Grinding on some stranger right in front of ME? You’re mine!” 

Something strange happened at Misha’s words. He was slightly scared, very much confused and then a shooting feeling of arousal coiled through his belly. Jensen found his voice. 

“You had women all over you at the bar! We never said we were exclusive,” He strained his voice to keep it level. 

“I wasn’t the one out on the dance floor practically having sex!” 

“You were last weekend!” Jensen cried, aware that his words were making less sense. 

“You’re MINE, Boy!” Misha barked. The arousal came back, harder and stronger than before. 

“Promise?” Jensen breathed. 

Anger melted from Misha’s face. He looked confused, then a grin broke across his face. 

“What?” Jensen snapped, but the anger was melting completely and being taken over by desire. 

“You liked it.” 

“Liked what?” 

“Being called names. When I called you ‘boy’ I saw your cock jump in those tight shorts. You like being humiliated,” Misha looked at him fondly. “I’ll tuck away that information for later.”

They ended the night a lot happier than it had started, the fight completely forgotten, like the clothes all over the floor. 

--

Jensen was sitting at Misha’s kitchen table. A laptop, books, notebooks and folders were spread out around him. Jensen had his forehead pressed to the cool wood. He’d spent the better part of three hours trying to write a paper for his english class. What does each room color symbolize in Mask of the Red Death? Discuss. Jensen then thought of the two ten-page papers due at the end of the semester. A Topic of Your Choosing Using Compare and Contrasting Methods and How are American Ideals Still Relevant in Today’s Day and Age? 

He groaned and lifted his head up. He found Misha standing against the counter to his right. Misha was wearing a suit, crisply ironed, with a khaki top coat over it. From the looks of it, Jensen figured it was probably cashmere. 

“Looks like a tornado came through,” He indicated the mess on the table. 

“More like a typhoon. I’m drowning in this.” 

“I wanted to talk to you about some things, but it can wait if you’re too busy.”

“Please, I could use a break from this.” 

“Now that we’re going to delve into this relationship, I want to lay out a couple rules for you to follow,” Misha sat down at the table and looked at Jensen seriously. Jensen nodded. “Number One, you call me ‘Sir.’ Number Two, you don’t cum unless I say so. Number Three, do not lie to me, EVER. And Number Four, is this.”

He took a small, leather-bound book from the inside of his topcoat and set it in front of Jensen. Upon further inspection, it was a journal with lined pages. Jensen cocked an eyebrow at Misha. 

“I want you to keep a journal. At least one page per day, more if you feel like it. On the first page,” Misha flipped the book open, “I’ve written some prompts I’d like you to start off writing about, so we can hone and mold our relationship together.” 

“So, I’m drowning in homework… And you give me more?” Jensen said, indicating the haphazard papers that littered the table. 

“I guess so, yeah. Got a problem with that, Boy?” Misha’s voice dipped into a commanding voice. 

“No,” Jensen responded. 

“No, what?” Misha’s voice dripped with venom.

“Uh, no, Sir,” Jensen looked down at the table. 

“Failure to follow my rules will result in punishment, and trust me, punishment does not equal pleasure.” 

“Yes, Sir,” Jensen said, nodding his understanding. 

“That’s my good slut,” Misha said, patting his hair. Misha and Jensen had found out fairly quickly that the pet name turned Jensen on to no end and Jensen felt a swell of happiness each time Misha used it. “I have a meeting. Be good.” 

As Misha left, Jensen looked at the table. He rolled his eyes in frustration and grabbed the journal. Opening it to the first page, he saw Misha’s handwriting. It was slanted, neat, almost calligraphy

What are your likes and dislikes in the bedroom? Discuss. 

How are you currently feeling about our relationship? Write this subject weekly

What do you want from a sexual partner?

What do you need from a sexual partner?

There was a hard line penned into the page

Only Jensen may write, unless he gives permission for me to respond. 

This is Jensen’s safe space to write what he needs.

Jensen will never be judged for what is written. 

Jensen looked between the journal and the three college papers he was working on. He groaned and pulled the laptop towards himself, deciding to write a little more about Mask of the Red Death before trying to fill out his journal. 

The first room is blue, which symbolizes Poe’s own depression…

“You know, maybe he just liked the color blue!” Jensen yelled at the empty house. He tossed The Works of Edgar Allan Poe across the kitchen. 

I’m honestly not sure how I feel about the relationship with Sir. I’ve barely met him but I feel like I’ve known him for a long time. I’m nervous and scared, but also aroused…

Jensen felt extremely weird writing in the journal at first, but once he got the first few sentences out, a bunch more were written. He ended up with three pages. By the time Jensen finished his journal as well as the Poe paper, it was nearing 5 pm. Jensen stood and stretched. It was Monday, so he didn’t have work and he didn’t have class: college or pole. 

He felt like he hadn’t seen Jared in forever. At least, the last time he saw Jared outside of work or school. They never really had time to talk while busy studying and working. Jensen texted Jared. 

Where are you?

Video Games was the response. 

Jensen was getting ready to head over to his apartment when a thought struck him. He quickly texted Misha.

I’m going over to the apartment to hang with Jared. 

Home by 2am came only a few seconds later. Jensen set an alarm on his phone to go off at 1. 

Jensen had only been by the apartment a couple times in the last two weeks and that was only to grab some clothes, his toothbrush, and school things. Jared hadn’t been home. He was splayed across the couch, playing COD. Jensen grabbed a controller and joined the game. As they played, he couldn’t help but feel a sort of tension between them. After about half an hour, Jared shut the game off. 

“Drink?” Jared asked stiffly. 

“I’m gonna drive back to Misha’s later,” Jensen said. “Is something up?” 

Jared finished his own beer and grabbed another one from the fridge. He scoffed. 

“What?” Jensen pressed. 

“You know, dude,” said Jared, turning to him. “I don’t even know what to say. You get this job at Frenzy, end up in the back room WITH THE OWNER, and then disappear for three weeks. What the fuck, Man?” 

“It’s not like that-” Jensen started before Jared cut him off. 

“That’s how it looks from my angle! You’ve never been that kind of whore! Tell me, is it true? Are you Collins’ new bitch? I have never known you to sleep with a partner more than once, but now that it’s some rich dude...” 

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” Jensen tried to explain, but he realized Jared must have been drinking most of the day; he wasn’t usually this hurtful. “What?” Jensen was taken aback as he comprehended the last sentence. 

“That’s what I heard. That’s what everyone at Frenzy is talking about. You hopping in bed with the owner. Man, I knew you liked to sleep around but this...” 

“Jared, I’m sorry, dude. Let me explai-”

“Explain what? Just answer the question, Jensen!” Jared yelled. 

“We’re in a relationsh-” Jensen started to yell. 

“It’s been three weeks and you’re basically moved in with him! Do you know how worried I’ve been? I would’ve called the cops if I hadn’t seen you at Frenzy!” 

“I’m fine, Jared! What? Can’t bear me actually being happy?!” 

“You’re a goddamn idiot! You have no idea what this guy’s intentions are! Sure, we’ve all done one night stands, but this… This is a whole new level, even for you,” Jared had gotten right into Jensen’s face. Jensen didn’t back down. The hurt was pumping through his body and he stabbed Jared right where it hurt. 

“You’re the one who almost killed yourself over Gen leaving you!” Jensen shoved Jared hard. He didn’t react fast enough to the fist that connected to the side of his head. 

“Get. The fuck. Out,” Jared snarled. 

Jensen had to sit in his car for fifteen minutes before the dizziness finally passed enough for him to drive to Misha’s...To home. When he pulled into the driveway, he could see the lamp on in Misha’s bedroom. He felt relief at the sight, not wanting to be alone after his fight with Jared. He let himself in the house and went down the hall to Misha’s room. He hesitated for a few seconds before knocking on the door. 

“Enter,” Came a distracted response. 

Misha was propped against the headboard, wearing only his boxers. He was reading Things Fall Apart by an author whose name Jensen couldn’t begin to pronounce. He felt that, in a way. That his life was falling apart around him. The room began to blur and shift and Jensen clenched his hands at his side. It had been a long time since something like this had happened. His head began to buzz loudly, like angry bees. 

“Jensen?” 

The room began to come back into focus, but then thoughts of the night and the last month of his life overwhelmed him and the room spun wildly, his heart raced, and tears fell from his eyes. Misha was at his side, steadying him. 

“I need. My medicine,” Jensen was almost hyperventilating. “In my bag.”

Jensen curled up on the floor, holding himself until Misha came back with a prescription bottle. He popped it open and handed Jensen one pill. When shaking hands, Jensen put the pill into his mouth and swallowed. It would take about ten minutes for the effect to settle in and calm him down. With arms stronger than Jensen imagined, Misha scooped him up and set him down in the large bed. 

“Shh, just breathe,” Misha soothed. 

As time passed, Jensen felt his heartbeat begin to slow and his breathing evened out. He became aware of Misha holding him with one arm, the other carding through his hair. The feeling was soothing, comforting. When he felt he could, Jensen sat up and faced Misha. 

“Panic attack?” 

Jensen nodded. 

“That may have been something you should have told me about.” 

“I haven’t had one for two years,” Jensen whispered. 

“Did it have something to do with the bruise that’s darkening on your face?” 

“I had a fight with Jared,” He explained. 

“Obviously. What about?” 

“This. Us,” Jensen said, apologetically. “I should go lay down. The medicine makes me insanely tired.”

“Stay. I want to keep my eye on you.”

Jensen hadn’t stayed the night in Misha’s bed since their second night together. Jensen felt a swoop of anxiety, but then Misha brought a hand to his face, and it melted away. He leaned into Misha’s touch. 

After a moment, Misha got out of bed and beckoned Jensen to do the same. He set the book carefully on the nightstand and pulled the covers back. He indicated to Jensen to get into bed, then slid in after him. 

“Why do you have panic attacks?” Misha asked. 

“When I was little, and my Mom and Dad were still together, they fought, like, all the time. Downright screaming matches. Their fighting started causing panic attacks. So, now whenever there’s arguing it can cause an attack.”

“I guess the fight just really affected me. I shouldn’t have said some things,” Jensen sighed deeply. 

“We’ll have to be careful. Everything will be okay,” Misha soothed.

The light clicked off and Misha spooned Jensen, his arm wrapped around his waist comforting him. Jensen pushed himself back into Misha’s chest and within minutes, the exhaustion from the day as well as the medicine pulled him into sleep. 

Jensen woke the next morning, groggy and feeling like his head was too heavy to lift. He was alone in Misha’s bed. Slowly, he sat up. He noticed a small piece of paper on the nightstand on top of the book that Misha had been reading. He grabbed it. 

I will be in my office when you wake, taking care of some work. Eat some eggs and toast and meet me when you’re through. -Sir

Jensen went to the guest room he’d been calling his own. He slipped into the bathroom attached and did his morning routine. He then made his way to the kitchen, wishing he knew where Misha kept the Tylenol. 

As Jensen ate breakfast, he scrolled through his phone lazily. The group chat he was in with the other guys and girls had blown up the previous night. Jensen scrolled through quickly, getting the gist of what had been discussed. He paused, however, when the chat shifted.

Cherie: It’s almost Mish’s Birthday y’all. What are we doing this year? Another showcase? 

Brad: Maybe, he never gets tired of watching us dance. 

Ariel: What if we did a choreographed routine with all of us? We could do it on the weekend of his birthday.

Michelle: Ooo I like that. Unless @Red Stud has a better idea? 

Brad: That’s a good idea. Everyone meet at noon at Frenzy tomorrow. Come with song ideas. 

Cherie: Great idea! See everyone then?

Shit. It was almost eleven now. He quickly finished breakfast and packed a bag. Then he went to Misha’s office. Jensen knocked on the open door. 

“Enter,” Came a reply. 

Misha was sitting behind a large carved desk, looking through a stack of papers. He glanced up at Jensen. 

“Where are you off too?” Misha asked. 

“Uhh,” Jensen hesitated, not knowing if the birthday party was a surprise. 

“Don’t lie to me,” Misha reminded him suddenly, fixing him with a blue-eyed stare that seemed to read his mind. 

“Okay, I’m meeting the other girls and guys at Frenzy-”

“Ah, yes. My birthday,” Misha rolled his eyes. “Anyway, I just wanted to give you this and ask you to fill it out. I’m filling one out, too. We will compare them and make necessary changes before signing.” 

Misha slid a thick packet towards Jensen. He walked to the desk and picked it up. Standard D/s Contract - Misha Collins was the title. Jensen felt his cheeks heat up. 

“Okay,” Jensen said, slipping the contract into his gym bag. 

“Okay what?” Misha snit.

“Sorry. Yes, Sir,” He amended. Jensen walked around the desk, so he was directly next to Misha, who had gone back to his report. He gave Misha a soft kiss on the cheek which he accepted. 

“Tell the girls and boys not to worry too much. I think I’ll be getting exactly what I want for my birthday already,” Misha threw him a quick, dirty look. 

“Yes, Sir.”

“Be good, Slut.” 

Jensen closed his eyes for a moment, letting the heat pool in his belly. Then, he left to get to Frenzy. He seemed to be the first one there, surprisingly. He changed, then warmed himself up quickly. He walked out to the stage and placed his phone off to the side, hitting the “Play” Button on the song he wanted. The slow guitar started and Jensen began swaying his body to the music, body rolling on the pole, doing slow spins. 

Whenever I'm alone with you

You make me feel like I am home again

Whenever I'm alone with you

You make me feel like I am whole again

Whenever I'm alone with you

You make me feel like I am young again

Whenever I'm alone with you

You make me feel like I am fun again

“I think Red should do the choreography!” He heard the yell, it startled him and he lost grip on the pole, landing painfully on his elbow. 

“I have no idea how to do choreography,” Jensen said tersely, sitting up and rubbing his aching elbow. He looked around and saw Brad, Cherie, and Michelle, who seemed to be the one who’d yelled. 

“Yes, you do,” Cherie said. “I know you can. Just by watching that performance, I know you can.”

Everyone filtered in and then Cherie called for silence. 

“I think Red should do choreo,” Michelle said again. 

“All in favor?” Cherie asked. Everyone except Jensen yelled ‘Aye!’ 

Jensen groaned. 

“Now, what song should we do? Fast or slow?” 

“Slow,” Jensen said. “I’m a lot better at slow choreo. Jazzy’s the one who usually choreographs for me.” 

It took nearly an hour before they’d settled on a song. Jensen huffed, it wasn’t a very slow song, but he could work with it. 

“Give me a half hour to figure out what we’re doing,” He grumbled, grabbing a pad of paper from behind the bar. 

Jensen played Breathe on Me at least five times, stopping and starting and writing the choreography on the pad. He called Cherie over and went through it with her. That way she could teach group one and he could teach group two. After about two hours, Jensen called it quits for the day. 

After a long shower, Jensen settled down at the kitchen table to do his homework and try to go through the large contract Misha had given him that morning. He’d gotten his english paper done, his journal written in, and was just staring at the front page of the contract when Misha arrived. 

“Slut,” He greeted, flashing a smile his way. 

“Sir,” Jensen nodded at him, a smile spreading across his face. 

“I’ll be in my room. Have fun.”

“Yes, Sir.” 

Jensen, in his limited free time, had been doing a lot of research into proper BDSM etiquette and rules. As Jensen read through the contract, filling in the blanks, he was all too aware of his cock hardening. He palmed himself as he went through the listed kinks and fetishes and circled ones he’d be willing to try. One line of the contract kept playing through his mind.

Above all, the primary duty of this submissive is to please.

Jensen grinned to himself. He had a sudden idea, and it sent warm heat through his body as his heart sped up. He hoped this would work, because if not, he’d be having a hard time following Misha’s rule not to cum without permission. 

He walked down the hallway, his heart pounding in his chest. The door to Misha’s room was open and Jensen dropped to his knees just outside the threshold. He put his hands on his thighs and bowed his head, closing his eyes. He’d seen this pose on a website as one of the accepted sub poses. He itched to call out, call attention to himself, but he pushed the urge down, stubbornly. Jensen waited. 

A calmness washed over him. His breathing and heartbeat slowed, the thought of pleasing Misha helped him ignore the numbness in his knees. Finally, Jensen heard an intake of breath and the swish of sheets rubbing against pajama pants. Jensen kept still, unmoving. He fought the urge to snap his head up. To meet those blue eyes that could read his mind. 

“How long have you been here?” Jensen couldn’t help the shiver that ran through his body at the soft, loving tone. Misha was right next to him. A hand rested on Jensen’s head. Jensen leaned slightly into the touch before remembering to keep his pose. Words were lost to him. 

“Speak,” Misha’s voice was still soft, but had an authoritative tone that Jensen couldn’t ignore. 

“I don’t know,” He answered honestly. It could have been five minutes or three hours. The time had melted away, had become meaningless. 

“What do you need?” Misha asked. 

“To please you,” spilled from his mouth. 

“Good Slut.” 

A sense of pride swelled inside him and a jolt of arousal coursed through his cock. 

“Crawl in here and take your position,” Misha guided him to an open space in the bedroom. 

When Jensen had resumed his pose, he listened intently, trying to figure out where Misha was and what he was doing. Misha’s hand curled into his hair, lifting his head. Jensen struggled to keep his eyes closed, but his lips parted slightly as his breathing quickened. The soft, velvety head of Misha’s cock brushed lightly against his lips. A shiver went down his spine. Sure, he’d sucked guys off before, even Misha, but never like this. 

“Is this what you want?” Misha asked, his voice low and growly. 

“Yes, Sir,” Jensen whispered. 

PART 2

[dailytomlinson]

At the start of 2020, Louis Tomlinson had just kick started his solo career off proper – his debut album ‘Walls’ was released in January and he performed two dates of his world tour before the COVID-19 pandemic hit and every other date was either postponed until next year or cancelled. Fans of the former One Direction star were gutted (of course) but their happiness has been restored as Louis played his first virtual gig last night.

You might expect that a virtual concert consists of just a singer and their band sat in an empty venue, right? With no lights or affects, and in a way it looks ‘boring’? Well this was the complete opposite! The classic Louis red lighting and the strobe lighting almost made you believe that you were actually there in real life!

Louis walked out on stage with his new haircut – it’s a lot longer than what fans were used to seeing. Has he been spending too much time with Harry Styles, who knows? He kept things casual in a laidback £22 Reebok t shirt which is now sold out in every single size due to Tomlinson’s influence.

He then kicked the concert off (15 minutes late may I add – fans are convinced that he wanted to watch the football) with ‘Just Hold On’. This is a song he originally produced with Steve Aoki and is more of a dance record, a bit different to the indie sound he is now leaning towards. But, he adapted the four-year-old record to his new style and it was a great surprise for fans – especially to kick off the livestream.

He then continued to sing ‘We Made It’ and ‘Don’t Let It Break Your Heart’ – two new songs from his album ‘Walls’. He then followed these tracks into a classic One Direction song ‘Drag Me Down’. Fans from all around the world went crazy about this – nothing beats a One Direction member singing a One Direction song in their solo career (well maybe a reunion would beat this).

Later on in the show, he sent fans into a frenzy when he performed two more hits from his boyband days – ‘Through The Dark’ (arguably an extremely understated song) and ‘Little Black Dress’ – a song that Tomlinson has expressed is one of his favourites and as he has previously said: “And remember if it’s by One Direction and it’s a banger I probably wrote it”.

But of course, he did sing his solo songs. Hits such as ‘Habit’ echoed through the screen of thousands of fan’s laptops, phones and TV screens and you can almost guarantee that they were all screaming along to the iconic lyric “Come so far from princess park.” Louis also poured his heart out in the song ‘Two of Us’ – a song dedicated to his late mother Johannah.

He also performed a brand new song which shocked fans when he released the setlist earlier that day. In ‘Copy of a Copy of a Copy’ Louis sings “You won’t be the first or be the last to bleed, every broken heart as far as I can see is a copy of a copy of a copy” and fans are already demanding it is released as soon as possible. He also sang a cover of ‘Beautiful War’ by Kings of Leon and fans are hoping that it will be available to stream soon.

Fans are going crazy for the new song, Twitter user @Jailboyhamirah said: “Cause of death: Louis Tomlinson singing copy of a copy of a copy.” which just shows the light hearted banter the fandom has and it also shows how excited they truly are.

The rest of the songs performed were just as great as the others, you could hear the excitement and happiness in this voice as you could tell he was just so happy about being back on stage. You could just tell he was in his happy place doing what he does best.

In the final song ‘Kill My Mind’, the screen behind Louis showed some lucky fans singing and dancing along behind him. This was a great idea – it gave fans a chance to perform with their idol and it made it feel even more like an actual concert. It was also a great ending to the livestream and made saying goodbye a little bit easier.

We also need to thank his musicians – if it wasn’t for them the concert wouldn’t have been as good as it was and they were all so incredible. His band is made up of Michael Blackwell on the guitar, Steve Durham on the drums, Matt Dinnadge on bass, Isaac Anderson also on guitar whilst the keys are played by Zac Craner. We also need a moment of appreciation for the brilliant string players that accompanied some songs and of course, the brilliant crew that made all of this possible for us fans.

Like always, Tomlinson’s fans don’t do anything by halves. ‘LOUIS TOMLINSON’, ‘THANK YOU LOUIS’, ‘LITTLE BLACK DRESS’ and #LTLivestream was trending worldwide and when tickets were released, the site crashed almost immediately. This is also the biggest show that Veeps have ever streamed before.

The virtual concert has also raised funds for the touring industry along with four other charities that are close to Louis’ heart – FareShare, Crew Nation, Bluebell Wood Children’s Hospice and Stagehand.

Louis shared a message on the screen after the concert that said: “Thank you to every single person who helped make this livestream possible.

“Without my band, my crew and team, live shows just wouldn’t happen.

“The money raised so far from this show will help some important causes, so a big thank you to everyone for tuning in.

“I can’t wait to see you all on tour soon!

“Stay safe, Louis x”

This concert allowed fans to see Louis performing – he was in his happy place and he was able to give fans a taste of what his future concerts will be like, all being well. It also gave a chance for fans to connect and watch a concert all together – no matter what corner of the world you’re from.

[pathofcomet]

and it’s just around the corner

fandom: stardew valley 

pairing: sebastian/player (female)

summary:  She’s a fool – she tries to tell herself. There’s nothing she can offer Sebastian that would make him stay in this village he so obviously loathes. She’s just dumb enough to have fallen for the man she cannot even bring herself to ask to love her back.

rating: explicit // word count: 25k // AO3

She cannot remember the farm per say, just the proof that she’s been there once: a dusty, yellowed photo of herself, smiling in a pink sundress under the shade of a gigantic oak, 4 years old and beaming. She can vaguely bring back the savour of cranberry jam on her tongue, the authentic, slightly sour taste that only meant home-made. She thinks they had a gray cat, and she can feel the smell of gasoline in her nose, from the long car ride there as a child. That’s all she remembers about her grandparents’ old farm; and anything of that lifestyle is completely lost upon her, or her memories of her grandpa. They haven’t been crazily close either: she was busy pursuing her education too far away to allow proper visits, and the phone signal failed the old man too much to allow even constant communication. When he died, they buried him in the city, next to his wife, and everything about the way he lived his life became hazy and forgotten in the lives of the living.

Which is probably why it is so hard to comprehend what she’s reading now, in her cubicle at work, defeated under her 16th time this month of overwork. Her grandpa was known for being eccentric, which is why she expected to see a card with hey, we all die in the end! or something written on it, and not the dreams of her childhood offered on a plate to her. She stares at the paper, reads and rereads it for 7 times before she’s convinced it’s actually real.

She’s touched at the care in his words, at the oozing affection on that piece of paper. It’s something that she didn’t know she was missing until now. A care sent across generations, to reach her – and when she feels like she needs it most. She doesn’t know if she should scream or cry or laugh.

She looks around: there are only a couple of other workers left in the office at the moment, in the late hours of the night. There’s delivery food all across the others’ empty desks, and a few of the girls switched their shoes, from heels to sneakers. And yet, as she stops, the clanking on the keyboard never ends around her, and the neon light remain buzzing above her, the static noise of her real life nightmare. The sigh coming from a co-worker several seats away is deafening in her ears. As she’s writing her resignation letter, for her boss to find on his desk at the first hour in the morning, she can’t help but notice how her vision shakes, how she can’t quite straighten her back under the pain of hours and hours of being hunched at a desk.

It’s not even the irony of it all, dying in a storm of unfair overworking while those above her wallow in money, that upsets her more. But rather, the way in which she cannot have any satisfaction out of it anymore. As a graduate, she thought she’d find happiness in a corporate job that pays well, but now the comfort of money means nothing when she doesn’t have the time to even spend it, and she can’t even recall what her hobbies are, let alone when’s the last time she did anything else but work, do house chores and sleep.

She cannot recall the last time she met up with some friends, visited new places or ordered online something else but a new pair of heels or a new shirt for work. Gods, now that she hit the brake on her wreck of a life, she can’t stop noticing how pathetic she’s been.

Her hands tremble as she signs the paper, as she tosses her meagre office belongings into her bag, as she pushes the elevator button. She’s already overthinking the decision, but it’s already made and she can only worry about what’s to be done next now. She’s 100% sure she’s not made for this, she has zero knowledge of how to take care of a farm and she still screams when she sees a spider in her apartment. But she’s tired, there’s a tiredness that never seems to let loose, and no matter how much she sleeps on Sundays, she wakes up feeling like she has her hands and feet tied. Even if to only rest for a while, and the whole ordeal would still have been worth it.

Sleep doesn’t come easily to her that night. She reads the letter over and over again, she measures the weight of the keys in her palms, she tries to put puzzle pieces together, from old photos she brings up from hidden boxes. Nothing tells her she made the right decision, though in her old photos, everyone looks so happy while on the farm. Maybe she didn’t even truly get to the end of her patience, just a bad day, maybe she still could have taken it for a while. After all, it’s not like she had that bad of a life. But then, it’s not like it was that good either. And once she started thinking of it, the idea of change became hauntingly tempting. The potential in this new place is infinite, and so, so terrifying.

But a change nonetheless.

She spends the next couple of weeks in a frenzy: selling most of her belongings, keeping only the strictly necessary. She keeps the pictures, of course. A few books, only those that she read during university and she felt like they changed her life, though she hasn’t revisited those stories since. Maybe she’ll finally have the time to, now. She sells or donates all her office clothes, expensive shirts and bags – all gone, because they remind her of some kind of work she never wants to do again in her life.

When she stops to count what’s left, looking at her near-empty apartment, two suitcases and a backpack put aside, she’s overwhelmed at how pointlessly she lived her life up until this point. She has nothing to show for all the efforts she’s made, and she can feel the skin all over her body itch with the realisation, itch for something else to do.

She doesn’t look back, as she’s returning the keys of her rented apartment. She has been paying expensively for the chance to live on her own in the big city, and there’s nothing but bitterness towards that idea anyway. She waits in the bus station with music playing at the highest volume, drowning out an incoming panic attack – as she’s struggling to count up to 10, reassure herself that she’s a grown fucking adult and that she can do something as easy as just moving someplace new.

Still, the scenarios roll in her mind, unperturbed, and she almost throws up thrice before she reaches her destination – and then she almost throws up again, as she’s watching the bus pull away, leaving her alone in the middle of nowhere. The sun is bright, but too bright and her clothes are sticking to her skin, even if it’s barely early spring, and the air is fresh. A fairy-tale start to her new adventure, and yet she feels like crying right then and there, a fain headache booming at her temples from all the anxiety she had to push away.

She’s already exhausted and it’s barely noon. She starts pulling at her suitcases, though the road makes it a tricky and tiring job. Then, just as she’s ready to take her first break, a hand grabs the handle, and she stares up in the face of a kindly looking old man.

Mayor Lewis; she still remembers the face, as he is the kind of person who probably always looked the same. They’ve last seen each other at her grandfather’s funeral, so there’s a bit of awkwardness hanging between the two of them, as she’s allowing him to help her with her luggage.

A redheaded woman is waiting for them in her truck, a bit of a distance away, and she helps them with her stuff. It’s easy to make conversation when friendly people are pushing it forward, and they seem way too enthusiastic about her presence. They don’t even comment about her sneakers, totally unfit for most of the roads in the town, or her outfit, that would rip or get dirty the second she’d encounter a field.

She already has a room prepared at Lewis’ place, there’s no way her old house can offer her proper living conditions just yet. That’s not a jab directed at her, rather at the passing of time and the overgrown state of her courtyard. But there’s nothing mean behind their comments, and they’re even offering all the help they can.

She’s trying to come up with a list of things that she might need, but Robin is already writing one of her own.

“She’s our architect,” Lewis whispers, winking at her in secrecy.

It’s weird and scary and she doesn’t know how to feel about it. Back in the city, she could have crumbled on the sidewalk and nobody would have cared. Here, it seems everyone jumps at the chance to do just that, help and care, and she’s terrified out of her skin. Her thanks are muffled by the weird knot in her throat. When balancing things out in her head, there’s nothing she can give them in equal measures.

The key in her hand feels foreign, but yet it’s that thing that grounds her to the moment, doesn’t let her slip away in that part of her brain that makes her forget things even happened. The house is, of course, a disaster, though someone had the good thinking of covering the furniture. The place is small, and it needs a good dusting, maybe even a new coat of paint. Robin, by her side, is still doing her job.

“Is there anything you want in particular?”

“No, not really. I don’t think so?”

She’s lost and overwhelmed. She’d like to just sit somewhere and start unpacking, maybe go and switch all of her things again actually, because there’s no way she can fit in with these people. But Lewis’ arm is around her shoulder, urging her back the way they came, promising her his special vegetable mix and green tea.

Once finally out of his sight, and comfortably settled in his extra bedroom, she squeezes a pillow close to her chest, hiding her face in it, and starts crying. She sobs – for the grandparents she didn’t properly appreciate while alive, that still left her with so much. For the chance that not many have to switch things around. For the state in which the farm is, and the immense effort she’ll have to put in building it back together. For the pain in her arms, the burn so unfamiliar that it must be only the sign of something new. She’s overwhelmed and scared, and hours pass before she finally falls asleep,

The next morning, she refuses even the breakfast, and immediately heads towards her place, luggage in tow. Mayor Lewis promised he’ll solve the problem of electricity and water running back to the place, so at least she can forget the administrative part.

She greets everyone she passes by, because otherwise the staring just gets too unbearable, and though they’re curious, they also remain polite too. But her courtyard and house are truly disastrous. She’s glad it’s still so early in the year, so the weeds didn’t grow yet on the path towards her door, so at least she can focus on dusting off the room, polishing the floor. She unpacks with nostalgic music blasting from her phone: plates in one drawer, her clothes in the other two. She builds herself a nightstand out of all the books she brought with her, and she washes the curtains by hand, letting them dry out in the sun.

She goes to the town for bedsheets and even more cleaning products, buys a basil plant for the windowsill. The place is small, smaller even than her city apartment, and she has nothing of her own to properly decorate it with, give it a specific charm, so she allows herself to get lost between the small isles of the store, and pick whatever piques her fancy. But this is fine, she thinks. This is, after all, the true definition of a new start.

She watches the sun set from her porch – she thinks she’d like an armchair for the place, it’d make a lovely reading pace if it’s not rainy, and there’s a soft lull from the TV inside, where the weather prognosis for the next day rattles on.

She finds grandpa’s old gardening books, and she starts reading them. She cleans up a small portion of the land, plants some seeds she picked based on Pierre’s recommendations. Gathers wood from the end of the forest that runs almost up to her house, practices splitting it in smaller branches, that she can carry and gather in the small tool shed, for the winter.

During the first night that it rains, she opens her door to a stray, lost dog. She hugs him close to her all through the night, as he whimpers and warms up – and in the morning she names him Max, and buys him dog food and a colourful bowl. She stops feeling so alone, so lost, a purpose forming, even though she can’t quite name it.

When too many days pass with her cooped only at her place, letters and requests for visits start pouring in her mailbox. Sometimes mayor Lewis comes pick her himself, walking around the town with her, stopping to present her to any villager they encounter. She feels like a circus freak being paraded around like this, but she smiles, wonders if Max is getting bored at home or if she could walk through the forest in search of some fruits.

 ***

Then, when the weather prognosis tells of many sunny days in a row, Robin shows up at her doorsteps, can of paint in one hand, brushes in the other – and her son behind her, to help her out.

She watches him, fiddling on the spot, looking like he certainly doesn’t want to be here and she smiles. Well, that’s at least a feeling that she can relate to, even when in her bed after a tiring day, she still sometimes yearns for everything that this place is not. Max helps. In this case as well, as he runs to the door and immediately jumps on him.

“Max, no!” she chides, though he settles calmly on panting up at the man for pats. Luckily, he hasn’t slammed him to the ground, as he tends to do with her, but that’s still no proper way of greeting strangers. “I’m so sorry…”

“Sebastian,” he says. “There’s no problem, really.” He’s scratching the dog between his ears, absentmindedly looking in through the door, at the small place she now calls home. There’s nothing much in there, but she finds herself growing protective over it anyway, at his gaze.

Max, the traitor, is now cuddled down at his feet. From the side, Robin laughs.

Her and Sebastian move the furniture, as Robin tapes newspaper on the wooden floor. She prepares fresh lemonade for her visitors and helpers before they start painting, and she takes a short break just to water her crops. They do the work in silence, mostly, just her phone turned on to fill up the space – and without mayor Lewis’ fast mouth, she isn’t certain what she could possibly talk about. From time to time, Robin asks Sebastian something – regarding his sister, or some things she asked him about before, which sounds a lot like nagging so she prefers to stay out of it.

She thanks them many, many times before they leave for the day. Especially since it was the weekend, and she’s sure they just threw away a perfectly free day on helping her put together her house. She just feels more and more indebted towards all these people. Even if Sebastian didn’t look her way even once.

 ***

She starts going to the local library, borrowing books and learning more and more things about the farm. She accepts the quests from the bulletin board, and in exchange she asks for fishing tips or some town history. She starts taking evening walks, with Max, picking up acorns. She gets stronger and better at all the farm work. She places various orders, starting to gather syrup from the trees near her house – and one lazy day, she makes jam, that she then sells.

She starts counting the money, making plans for the farm. She buys two chickens, and the one day when no one in the town sees her, it is because she struggled all the time to build a fence so that they won’t step all over crops and no fox would reach them during the night.

 ***

Everyone is friendly, showing up at her door with gifts for her new move: a handmade mug from Leah, a beautiful seashell from Elliot, an actual functional first aid kit from Harvey. She suspects the mayor’s doing behind all these kindness acts, and yet it’s with a reverent kind of gestures that she finds a place for all of them in her small house. She starts adding some kind of adjectives to this cast of characters that enter her life.

But with Sebastian, something’s different. She doesn’t know what makes her notice him again; that something that made him stand out from the mass of people she met in the past few weeks. Maybe it’s not even just one single thing, but a mix: like how he is the son of the kindest lady, paler than the farmers or football players, how he doesn’t want to stand out at all, how she has to go out of her way to find him, instead of the other way around.

Most of all, it’s the desperation she can feel off of him. There’s a force in him that cannot make peace with how things are for him at the moment – and it’s the familiarity of it that pulls her in, lets her gaze linger on him for a bit longer, makes her ask about him while smiling in the most innocent way, sipping tea in Robin’s office.

***

They’re not that different; she’s easy to fit in the village life, mostly because she’s so pliable for others, knowing the memory of her grandpa is attached to her as well. She sometimes feels like the older residents of the town look through her, instead of directly at her, and see the ghost of someone else they used to know. And the days pass, things fall together, and yet in her chest, there’s a clock ticking away, counting down the time spent here, because if she was looking for something like belonging, it seems this town buried it away with her grandpa, and things don’t seem that different from how they used to be. She just has dirtier nails now, and some decaying make-up skills.

So she never visits without a purpose, doesn’t get too friendly with most of them. She spends days in a row on her farm, ploughing the land, watering the plants, feeding the animals. Task upon task, she goes through all of them, grateful for how it’s silencing her mind, giving her the time and space to breathe. If she finishes early, she likes to go fishing, the breeze nice against her sun-warmed face, especially as the dusk approaches.

It’s the simplicity of life that lulls her into wanting something more, eventually, tentatively. She visits Robin, as she’s closing the store, so they can share some fresh-picked fruits while watching the sun set. She meets up with the mayor for chess during Sundays, stories of two best friends half a century ago embedded in every sigh, and she wins every time and that’s how she knows he just lets her. When she passes by to drop something for the museum, she spends the remaining afternoon in the library, browsing the collection, reading for the children fresh out of classes that ask her to do so.

But if anyone in Pelican Town would be asked, they wouldn’t be able to tell people that much about their newest villager. In truth, even for those closest to her, there’s an aura of mystery: whatever her life was before, she doesn’t go into details. Whatever and for however long she might remain in their lives, she doesn’t say.

To Sebastian, that’s what makes it easy. He doesn’t expect her to tell him anything, since she’s not pressing her curiosities either. Probably why she opens so willingly, why she creates a routine around his. She always stops at the edge of the river, where she knows she’ll find him in the evenings. They never talk for long, or of important things – but she thinks, the magic is in staring together at the same scenery, feeling much of the same things. After the third time, she asks for a cigarette from him, and she winks at him when he looks just a tiny bit surprised.

This is how it begins. The rest she almost doesn’t even notice.

 ***

She remembers the Egg festival; she’s sure she took part in one of the hunts back when she was little, though the details are foggy in her mind. She doesn’t remember any of the villagers, but she’s been a very shy child, and not even the promise of bunny chocolates was enough to persuade her back then.

Still, she worked for so long in a corporation, at this point the spirit of competition is embedded into her. She wakes up early, and she wears one of her dresses from before, even if she has to match it with grandpa’s old jeans jacket. She even puts on make-up, manages to water her plants as well before she’s walking towards the town.

She officially meets Maru and Demetrius, as they’ve been so busy during her past visits. Marnie clasps her in-between her arms, exclaims how pretty she is when not trying to imitate her house’s looks, and loudly kisses both her cheeks. Gus waves at her, and keeps presenting various plates to her, and by the time she can excuse herself, she’s glad she hasn’t eaten any breakfast. Jas and Vincent come at her yelling tag! and she spends the next half an hour running around, followed by the sometimes annoyed, sometimes happy smiles of the other villagers.

She buys strawberry seeds, more on a whim, because she was craving for some, and gets herself a cute bunny plush, since she’d had trouble sleeping, and she’s sure Max would appreciate her hugging a non-living thing more. She feels like she fits more, now, that she’s surrounded by everyone else, and she realizes that she knows them all, that they know her back – and there’s no outright hostility.

She greets Sebastian, and meets his friends. She compliments Abigail’s hair, Sam compliments her instead. He’s friendly and outgoing, compared to the other two in his group, but she notices Sebastian’s fleeting smile at the toy in her arms, so she straightens her back even more.

As soon as mayor Lewis starts his announcement, Abigail immediately seems more excited, especially since she is presented as the winner for the past decade. However, by the time the day ends, Pelican Town has a new Egg Hunt winner.

The straw hat doesn’t fit her outfit, and it’s not quite yet a necessary accessory, but she’s beaming at every villager that comes to congratulate her, even if she’s already so old and she shouldn’t be so happy about beating a few 10 year olds. Even Abigail is a good sports and promises she will beat her next year.

Next year – she wonders if she’ll even be around for that long. Her saved-up money is slowly trickling down, as she keeps buying things that she needs, and she has no idea yet how much profit she’ll be able to make at harvest time. She feels better knowing her doubts don’t show to others.

She walks part of her way home with Robin and her family. Maru is happily telling her something about her research, though it goes over her head and she doesn’t understand much of what’s going on. Demetrius and Robin walk several steps ahead, arms linked, and it’s a sweet sight to see, that they can be so close even after so many years.

Then, before she takes her turn to her farm, after everyone else said their goodbyes, Sebastian looks up at her.

“It suits you,” he says, so low she almost misses it, nodding his head at her hat. She blushes under the street lamp, but he’s already turned his back on her and he can’t see, so she can go on her own way and pretend it never happened.

 ***

She starts going to the mines, even if everyone tells her she better not. But she needs better tools, more resources and something to do on rainy days, so she goes anyway. She comes out late into the night, dirtier than she’s ever been, spider cobwebs stuck in her hair, but her backpack heavy.

The next morning, she struggles packing some presents for Robin and Lewis, for all the help they’ve showered her in ever since she moved. She doesn’t have much to offer, some syrup and a jar of jam, a few eggs. But as she’s going into town, there are three presents that she’s carefully carrying around in her bag.

She stops by Lewis first, sits on his stairs with a steaming mug of coffee between her hands, as he waters his small garden – and they chat about the weather, the fishing days that Lewis has programmed, their favourite Stardrop meal. The days get warmer and warmer, as they’re slowly rolling towards summer, and she’s feeling peaceful, listening to the mayor’s chatter, his grunts as he digs around, his yelling when she offers to help him around.

She drops by Clint to let him examine some of the stuff she found underground, and by the time she reaches Robin’s place, the older woman is taking her lunch break. She’s exclaiming happily at the gift, and invites her to stay for lunch. She helps her with the plates, and while Robin goes to gather the rest of her family, she sends her to get Sebastian.

She has to breathe deep, count to 10, before she has the courage to knock at his door. There’s the sound of something tumbling to the floor, and she winces; more shuffling, and the door finally opens to reveal a somewhat sleepy looking Sebastian. It looks like he hasn’t brushed his hair yet, as it sticks out in odd directions, and in his own space, he’s wearing some old, washed-out t-shirt that is several sizes too large, and sweats. She stares at him, entirely endeared, but also deeply aware that there’s a line she has just crossed by seeing him like this – and she’s not sure she was allowed to.

“Hi,” she says, at the same time he says “Shit”, closing the door on her. She opens and closes her mouth several times, trying to come up with a proper way to reach to this, but her mind coming up blank.

Eventually, she lamely says “Robin said lunch’s ready,” before she leaves for the kitchen again. Demetrius is already seated at the table, looking up at his wife like she hung up the sun on the sky. Maru refuses to show up, as she’s too invested in her research, but there’s the slam of a door from downstairs, and Sebastian eventually shows up, just as his step-father takes his first bite from his plate of spaghetti. Their guest has not yet picked up her fork.

Sebastian is now wearing actual jeans, and his hair looks a bit more tamed. He sits next to her, and the four of them eat in relative silence, though she’s obsessively thinking of her knee, against Sebastian’s, under the table and she wants to fucking swear at herself, for acting like a fucking cowardly high-schooler.

“So, why did you move to Pelican Town?” Demetrius asks her, in the end. She notices him wincing immediately after the dull thud from under the table, and she imagines that was Robin kicking him from asking a question that no one had dared poise to her until now.

She finishes chewing the food in her mouth, swallowing a bit more painful.

“I needed a change,” she says eventually, entirely too vague.

“From? You should tell Sebastian about your city experience, because he’s obsessed with leaving the town.”

There’s a disapproving tone in his voice that makes her wince, but her head snaps up at Sebastian, who looks both entirely annoyed and disappointed. She’d like to press her finger to the frown now so obvious on his forehead.

“Really?” she mumbles lamely instead. Sebastian’s now looking at her, and although across the table his parents are bickering with each other in low whispers, he doesn’t break the eye contact. He just nods at her question, grabs another bite of food – the words won’t make it any better.

She always thought that the people in this town are happy to live here, heck even she’s trying to understand the charm of the place and why her grandpa never left it. She always thought that if there is someone to leave it, that’d be her, in an example of another of her life’s failures. But here’s Sebastian, burning with a yearning for a city just as hers to leave it was.

He takes her back home, assuring her that his lunch break is long enough to allow him to do that. They’re walking side by side in companionable silence. Sebastian, unlike his father, doesn’t ask her anything, so when they reach her property, she hands him her last package.

“Can I?” he asks, a hand already tugging at the ribbon, and she smiles at him. Inside, there’s an assortment of minerals: quartz, obsidians. She’s found them during her time in the mines, and the only thing she somewhat remembers from her dialogue with Maru is that her brother loves this stuff.

“What’s this for?” he says, voice a little chocked, laughing at the end, embarrassed and overwhelmed.

“Thanks for that day,” she says. Then, more unsure… “And good luck for the future?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

She’s already turned around on her feet, a hand up in the air in goodbye.

The next morning, even if Sebastian never eats breakfast, he makes toast and eats it with strawberry jam, from a jar cutely decorated in stickers, where in cursive, their newest villager wrote for Robin and family <3.

 ***

She goes to JojaMart to buy an electric kettle; she can’t quite yet afford to get her kitchen built in, so she’s been eating at the Stardrop Saloon or lived on oatmeal and salads. But the mornings are dreadful with instant coffee and cold tap water, so she’s finally investing in something to make her life a bit better. This lifestyle reminds her of being a student in the dorms, and it’s not something she thought she’ll ever return to.

Sam looks around for his managers, and when there’s none around, he stops next to her and they chat by the vegetable stall. She’s frowning at the price, way higher than what they can find in the town and what she sells her own products for.

“Capitalism,” Sam says brightly, tugging at his employee lanyard, and she laughs at him.

“Oh, trust me, I know all about that.”

He wiggles his eyebrows at her, which makes her snort. Shane, his co-worker, turns to stare at them, but he’s not telling them on, so she moves one step closer to him.

“I’ve worked in customer care for Joja Corporation.”

Sam mimics throwing up, turning serious again only when she’s elbowing his side. She’s painfully aware of all the cameras in the store, after all this time away from anything of the sorts.

“But for real, you’re way better in Pelican Town,” he says, even if she’s not yet quite convinced.

But he doesn’t continue pressing the matter. Instead, Sam invites her the next Friday for an evening at the Saloon, where him, Sebastian and Abigail are supposed to play live a few of their songs. She clasps her hands together, and agrees immediately. She used to love this kind of thing: but it’s been so long since she allowed herself to take an evening off, both in her life back in the city, and the life here.

 ***

She’s already a regular, so Emily nowadays greets her with a hug. Though this time she whistles suggestively at her outfit. Since it’s supposed to be a more special night, she chose a low cut blouse to go with skinny jeans, and she’s no more a formless body buried under work clothes. The only make-up is a very dark lipstick. Her… friends, she supposes, are already on the side, tuning their instruments. Sam grins at her, waving her at the table Gus saved up for them, where he ordered pizza for everyone.

They’re not playing for a long time, maybe half an hour, but by the end, everyone is loudly clapping at their performance. She’s the only one whooping, and Sam is loudly laughing at her embarrassed grin afterwards, runs to fall into her waiting arms and twirls her around in the air, feet not touching the floor.

“Who knew our biggest fan would be you?” he says, helping her pat her hair pack into place.

“I did. I mean, your band has Abigail.”

The girl in questions frowns a bit at her, suspicious that it’s less of a compliment than she tried to make it, turns on her feet as she moves to the music box, tosses a coin in and picks a song. It takes a few seconds for her choice to start loudly booming in the saloon, but as soon as she does, she moves to grab at Sebastian’s arm, dragging him to the dancefloor, though he looks like he’s a lamb taken to sacrifice.

Sam laughs at the two of them, then turns back to his new friend.

“Do you think these two will ever hook up?”

She chokes on the slice of pizza that she’s eating, punching at her chest so she can breathe again. Someone slides in the chair next to her to the table, a hand slapping her hard on the back until she can breathe properly again. Then, frowning, she turns towards the newcomer, because she can’t bear looking at Sebastian and Abigail, together, dancing. She doesn’t think she can look at them without imagining them doing exactly what Sam asked her about, and it’s a shaming thought that she burns down. Shane, the one sitting next to her now, has already picked a slice of his own from their order, and nodded in greetings at Sam.

Sam leaves to talk with Penny, spending enough time as it is in Shane’s company, so Shane moves even closer to her, so he can be heard over the loud music. He’s a bit of an asshole, as he’s looking nowhere else but at her cleavage and the skin she’s showing with her choice of clothes. He’s not even trying to hide it, licking his lips, speaking without even trying to lift his eyes.

“Didn’t know the sunshine and the emo buy are hiding such a beauty between themselves,” he says, snaking an arm around her waist, shoving the second pint of beer he arrived with in her direction. He already smells like the stuff though, which means he’s at least tipsy, if not outright drunk yet. There’s offense in the way he said those nicknames, horrible on their own as well, but she’s sitting between the wall and his body and he’s a man showing interest in her, clearly going out of his way to make it obvious.

She takes several big gulps from her beer, and then turns towards him, smiling. He can’t tell it is strained.

“Well, I’m here now,” she says, and the hand around her squeezes in response. She lets him talk, mostly shit about the town, then shit about himself, and she keeps drinking and drinking, glass after glass of alcohol, because then at least she doesn’t have to reply. In the dark, they must look pretty cosy to the others, because no one else returns to the table – and by the time she remembers she is supposed to have friends around, and looks around for them, her vision is unfocused and she can’t make out the shapes and figures all around.

But she can notice the slightly grown stubble on Shane, how he’s now so, so close to her, his lips brushing against her ear each time he tells her something. She feels like she’s about to suffocate. But he tells her about how beautiful she is, how hard he makes her – and he guides her hand to his pants, where she indeed can feel her effect, and it’s a surge of pleasure and power. She squeezes him through his pants, and he groans in her ear. Her nipples perk up. And then his lips move closer, to her neck, where his tongue is lapping at her skin, sucking against the space. She feels hot all over, in a way that she doesn’t know if she likes or not. His other hand is now fondling with her breasts through her blouse, and she gasps – which only makes him to go at it harder. His mouth finds her, his tongue moving against hers immediately. She’s lost in time, doesn’t know for how long he does it – her body becoming lighter and lighter with each swipe of his saliva against her lips.

Then, a cough from behind Shane. She snaps out of her daze, looks up. Makes eye contact with Sebastian, which feels as effective as a cold shower to her fogged mind. She yanks Shane’s hands off her, but he’s unbothered, turns to look at Sebastian with something like disgust and boredom.

“Can we help you?” Shane says. She hates how the word we sounds from his mouth.

Sebastian doesn’t bother to even look at the drunk guy, instead addressing her only.

“Do you want to go home? The others left already, but it’s getting pretty late…” He stops to stare at Shane, and she wordlessly nods at him. He starts moving instantly, shoving Shane away so he can grab her wrist and help her out of her chair. She needs a few seconds to stabilize herself on her feet, stop the dizzying headache that hit her at the sudden movement.

“Come on, man, what do you think you’re doing?” Shane asks, though he also has troubles standing on his own feet. He makes do with leaning against the table, doing his best to look as menacing as possible.

In his arms, she shudders at the sound of his voice, clutches her fingers around Sebastian’s leather jacket. He doesn’t move away, but he doesn’t want to touch her either, so he just stands still.

“She’s coming with me,” is all he says, and when he starts towards the door, she follows silently. He offers her jacket, which he picked up earlier, before checking on her, and she hangs her head even lower in shame. The cold, outside air is quickly sobering her up, and she really can’t believe she lost herself, just as if she were a college freshman. She burns with embarrassment.

Once out, Sebastian moves a bit away from her, offering her space, though he always extends an arm in her direction when she stumbles on both existent and imaginary obstacles. The silence now is excruciating.

“Say something,” she croaks, her throat hurting from all the alcohol.

“Are you okay?”

His voice is soft, and he stops, looks at her for the first time since the start of all this situation. She knows she probably looks like a mess, lipstick smeared all around her mouth, clothes hanging awkwardly, but his eyes just search hers. She suddenly feels like crying. He must see it too, because he’s moving closer to her.

“Can I-” he tries, sighs, moves a hand through his hair in frustration. “Can I touch you?”

She nods, but he doesn’t move.

“I’ll need verbal confirmation.”

“Yes.”

She’s outright staring at him now, as he makes his way to her, cups her face in between his hands. His fingers are cold against her flushed skin, but it grounds her to the moment. Sebastian’s eyes are moving now, across her face: stop at her jaw, her neck, where Shane sucked painful love bites against her skin, visible even only in the light coming from the street lamps. He hesitates before moving his gaze downwards, where similar marks were left by his fingers against her tits. She feels like used goods, even if there is no judgement from Sebastian.

“Did you want that?” he asks again, sounding deadly serious, so she’s trying to think equally as seriously about his question. It’s hard, her thoughts all jumbled up, a soft kind of edge to everything going on in her head.

“I don’t know,” she answers finally, her head pressing more firmly against his palm. Sebastian’s thumbs are now moving softly against her jaw, and she wants to purr, just like a cat, maybe hang on to him for more of his warmth.

“God,” he says, and it sounds like a swearword. He unglues himself from her, extends an arm that she gracefully takes as they continue on the road to her house. He doesn’t say anything more until they arrive on her porch, though he looks like he’s thinking very hard. She’d like to press her finger to the frown on his forehead.

Max is happily snoring on the warm ground, and she lets go of Sebastian to run the short distance to her dog. She goes on her knees, grabs Max’s head in her hands and coos at him like she would to a baby, talks lovesick nonsense to the dog, pats him all over.

Her voice sounds fucking cute, Sebastian thinks, but instead he fishes something from the pockets of his jacket, bends down so he can press it in her palms. She immediately turns to look at him, eyes big and questioning.

“Take those in the morning, okay? You’ll need them,” is all he says, raising a hand and waving it in a goodbye.

 ***

Sebastian is right. She wakes two hours later, empties all the contents of her stomach, tears burning at her eyes, and when she wakes again, she thanks all the gods that outside it is raining, because she only gets up to get a glass of water and swallow the pills. Her head is killing her, and her heart aches in embarrassment at the way she acted. She hangs between screaming out in frustration at her own self and complaining about being hangover the whole day, hating herself so, so very much.

She still shoots Sebastian a text, thanking him for taking care of her, in so many ways, the night before. He leaves her on read.

For the next week, she busies herself with work on the farm. She makes another batch of jam jars, which she sends to Lewis for selling. She plants a new tree sapling, harvests strawberries, even builds an ugly-looking scarecrow out of an old broom. She cuts down wood, saves up stacks of it for when she’ll eventually afford Robin’s services. She goes in the mines, once or twice.

Then one of Lewis’ invitations is waiting in her mailbox, for another festival. Spring is coming to an end, already a sweeter, warmer breeze in the air, so the whole town is to celebrate the exact thing.

 ***

But Pelican Town is a small place, and so it never forgets gossip too easily. On that evening, enough pairs of eyes saw her fumbling in the dark with Shane, and so enough pairs of eyes are now watching her suspiciously as she greets the mayor. She’s wearing some city dress again, though more modest, and ribbons in her hair. She’s forcing herself to smile at everyone she encounters, trying not to seem so affected by the outright cold shoulder.

Sam still greets her, though, grabbing her in his arms.

“Oh, handsome!” she says, and laughs when he’s looking around, to check if anyone else heard her. But he is wearing a suit, his hair is gelled down and he smells like his mother. His eyes are searching hers though, and she thinks Sebastian might have said something to his friend. But thankfully Sam mentions nothing.

She looks behind him, at Sebastian, dressed in a costume as well. Her heart starts beating faster in her chest; his hair is pushed back, and his forehead is now uncovered. He sits relaxed, his hands in his pockets, like he doesn’t really want to be there and she hasn’t seen someone look that heartbreakingly gorgeous.

“You too,” she says. Sebastian raises an eyebrow at her. “Look good, I mean,” she clarifies, and she clears her throat before the awkwardness chokes her.

It’s a big understatement, but it’s the best she can do right now. There’s a small smile that she gets in reply. On the other side of the field, by Robin’s side, Abigail, Penny and Maru look absolutely stunning in their festival dresses, with the flower crowns on top of their heads. They’re laughing at one of Abigail’s stories, and they’re just beautiful and young and entirely enrapturing. She wonders if she didn’t fuck it up so badly earlier, she would have been invited to be one of them.

This time around, there’s not as much mingling with the people as earlier in the season; people are a bit warier, though she supposes she deserves it. She’s busy setting down a mat under a blossoming tree, preparing some kind of picnic and viewing spot at the same time.

“You look beautiful,” she hears from behind her, and she turns around to find Shane. A bit behind him, Marnie is engaged in a conversation with the mayor, and by his side, there’s Jas, who immediately shoves her sandals away so she can step on her mat and sit next to her.

She offers her tea and strawberries, places her own hat on top of the child’s head to protect her from the sun, who squeals in delight that she can show off the winning prize of the egg hunt. Then, she turns back to Shane:

“Is she your daughter?”

“Gods, no. She’s my goddaughter.”

She sighs, relieved a bit. In the morning, Shane looks just scruffy, some kind of sober, but his face is still red and puffy, sign of alcoholism. She knows Jas lives with him and Marnie, and it can’t be a good environment for a child, but she’s heard the rumours that he’s not that much at home anyway. She’s worrying for the young girl, but she also trusts Marnie to handle the subject, not really her place to say anything anyway.

Shane moves closer, his hand grabbing the end of the scarf she’s wearing around her neck, tugging so it comes undone between his fingers. She gasps, palm gluing to the skin there, reaching out for him.

“Give it back,” she all but growls it out, eyes frantically looking around, hoping no one is actually looking their way, since everyone is focused on preparing for the dance.

“I did that, right?” he asks, finally stopping, and she takes back her scarf, hangs her head low, so that her hair can cover her movement, as she ties it back in place.

“Yes, you fucking asshole,” she spits, but doesn’t move away from him.

“I was honest, you know. About you looking beautiful. Then and now too.”

“Thank you,” she says, and stays in place even as Shane gets closer to her. He’s also dressed up, wearing an actual shirt and everything, his jaw freshly shaven. He even looks somewhat attractive, and just like last time, she’s grateful for the attention. Back in Zuzu City, no one bothers with any kind of dating, no one bothers to notice someone else at all – no sweet lies, no prelude, just a dick and a cunt. So this feels new and flattering at the same time.

She sits down on her mat, reluctantly serves Shane too with some of her freshly picked strawberries. Jas moved over to Vincent and Jodi, her hands carefully holding on to the hat that’s still a bit too big for her, so it’s only the two of them in this corner. The music can’t start soon enough, because she can feel stray eyes looking to them.

The dance starts, and she watches, transfixed as the pairs walk towards each other, meeting in the middle in an embrace. Almost immediately the dresses flutter in the air, twirling. There’s an admiring exclamation from somewhere in the crowd, Jas happily clapping along to the rhythm. She looks at Sam, all but drinking up Penny’s laughing face. She looks at Abigail, tightly holding on to Sebastian’s shoulders. She looks at her friends dancing with the girls they have a crush on, and something in her chest rips apart.

“Hey,” Shane says. “Wanna get out of here?”

She nods wordlessly, and he takes her hand. No one looks at them, as they discreetly make their way behind everyone else. Once out the field, Shane breaks into a run through the woods. They stop in a clearing, both breathing hard from their run, and Shane grins at her, before straightening his back, walking purposefully her way and deciding to kiss her. It’s hard and rough, much like he’s been handling her until now too, but she still moans.

His hands are already moving at pulling his belt apart, and he takes her hands and moves them towards his dick.

“Come on, play with it,” he whispers breathlessly, as he’s pulling apart her scarf for a second time today, mouth finding the tender skin, reinforcing the fading marks. She’s feeling needy herself, she’d like him to shove down her panties and eat her out, but she makes do with moving her legs one against the other, seeking some kind of friction, as her hands are moving from his tip towards his balls, slower at the beginning, and faster once he starts grunting in her ear, pumping into her hands.

Then, he grabs at her hair, and she has to bite her tongue to stop from yelping.

“On your knees,” he says, already pushing his weight on her shoulders, and more or less willingly, she gets to the ground. The uneven dirt hurts her skin, and yet she has to ignore it, because Shane is already guiding his dick with his hands towards her lips. She forces herself to open her mouth, hopes he’ll better get down to do the same thing for her.

Her mouth is warm, and she’s fucking good at what she’s doing, sucking hard and taking him all in, like a good bitch, even if tears are forming at the corner of her eyes and her throat is burning. He pulls out, just to slam, hard, back inside her wet, welcoming hole – and in just three shoves, he comes undone, half coming in her mouth, half out just so he can have his fantasy of his cum leaking on her face.

Her dress is stained, and almost all her arousal is out of her. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, presses a palm against the painful strain in her jaw. Shane hurries to put his now flailing dick back inside his pants, and he’s not helping her back up.

“Gotta go,” he says, and he’s patting down his pants, where she held onto and left some creasing.

“What?” she asks, suddenly annoyed. “What about me?”

“Solve it yourself, princess.”

He starts walking away. She screams after him.

“Oh, fuck you!”

“My pleasure, next time!” he shouts back, but he doesn’t stop, as he’s making his way back towards the festival.

She shoves the middle finger up in the air, stomping her feet at the same time, shrieking.

“You fucking asshole!”

He chuckles at her tantrum, but he’s spent and satisfied, while she’s there frustrated and fucked over, so he’s not bothering to take her too seriously.

There’s no way she can go back there without everyone else figuring out exactly what she’s been up to. Of course, Shane looks no different than his usual, maybe he’s even surrounded by some post-orgasm glow, but there’s some bleeding from one of her knees, his now dry cum on the front of her dress, and her hair is nothing but a mess. She can’t believe how fucking stupid she can be, and how she fell again in the same old game of “I give you some attention, you give me some sex” that she’s been playing for ages now. It seems like habits don’t change, no matter if she’s in Zuzu City or Pelican Town.

And for what? Just because she felt lonely and jealous, because she felt like no matter how much she’ll try, she’ll never be anything but a passing fancy to these people that know each other inside out?

She makes her way towards her farm stomping her feet, swearing at Shane and mumbling curses all the way. Once back, she draws herself a hot bath and, in the tub, finally somewhere safe, she touches herself, moans out into the air a name she doesn’t dare to even say out loud, and thinks of someone who never even looked at her in any way to indicate she might want her too.

So, she must make do with fucking Shane?

But as she succumbs to her orgasm, moving lower into the water, maybe she can just order a dildo online and leave it at that.

*** 

On the first summer days, she takes up fishing. She buys a bottle of mead, because she’s heard from mayor Lewis that’s the favourite drink of their local fishermen, and she goes down the beach to beg.

She wants to learn fishing, she says. Just a couple of lessons, whenever he can leave his store and he’s willing to – she really just wants some new hobbies. It’s dreadfully awful to have only three functional TV channels, and only a dozens of books. Even Max is just a dog, and there’s a limitation to what he is capable of. Willy is funny and wise in the way only old men who love the sea can be, but he’s patient in his explanations – and sure enough, very soon, she catches her first fish.

She takes a picture of it on her phone, proud of her achievement. She sends it to Sam, to boast a bit and to annoy him, because he’s currently stuck at his part-time job. Then she goes shell hunting, because she’s too giddy to do any actual work. The villagers recently rebuilt the small bridge on the beach, and it’s lovely to get to take a walk like this. She wants her house to have the same fresh feeling, so she visits Robin for an upgrade.

And she knows she’s paying for the work, but with Robin, she feels like she’s asking for a favour, so she must give something back. And because she feels guilty, for having thought so angrily and jealously about Sebastian and his life, she wants to say sorry in a way, even if he has no way of knowing why she’s doing it in the first place.

Robin’s outside the house, just having come back from an exercise class at Caroline’s. She greets her visitor just a bit more strained than usual, and well – there’s no doubt that if there’s a gossip mill in the town, that’s probably the weekly gathering of middle-aged wives.

The farmer sighs, agrees to wait in the house while Robin takes a shower, before they can discuss about work.

“Is Sebastian home?” she asks, and the older woman makes a dismissive sign with her hand, which means she can go and check for herself.

The door to his room is slightly open, and he actually asks her to come in when she knocks. She greets him from the doorway, suddenly shy when he speaks, suddenly guilty that she’s interrupting him. She sits down on the couch, starts by watching him work, and then eventually she gets distracted by the posters on his walls, and the huge book collection he is showcasing on his shelves. It’s work that she’s familiar with, the stuff she liked to read before, when she used to have time for her hobbies, about worlds that she could escape to only by reading about them in books, featuring magic and dragons and robots.

He doesn’t seem to mind her looking around, as long as she’s quiet. Then, he eventually finishes, and sighs, stretching out his arms.

“Sorry about that, had to finish what I was working on.”

“Ah,” she nods. “And what is that?”

“I do freelance programming,” he answers. “I just want to save up enough to move from here. You know, if I’d gone to college, I’d probably be making six figures right now… but I just don’t want to be part of that corporate rat race, you know?”

“As a rat,” she says, a smile already on her face, “I totally agree with you.”

He looks at her; this is the first hint he gets – of something more about her. He’s heard from Sam, of course, about her actual job in the city, but it’s different to know it from her, to know he has her trust, to hear the defeat behind her voice, even as she tries to hide it with humour.

Then the moment is broken, the ping from his IM breaking the companionable silence between them. Normally, he’d have to explain to people why he is not in the mood to meet up with others, his introversion something out of a freak show with the villagers, but she just nods at him in understanding.

But the next interruption is almost brutal, Robin returning to pass on Abigail’s message, so filled with dismissal at his work, and indifference at his preferences. The easy air about him, as he was talking about a work he clearly loves and his dreams, is now entirely stifled – and instead he, defeated, just accepts all of this, even if he complains. She’d like to press her finger to the frown on his forehead.

This situation makes her blood boil, though: because she’s been in his exact spot. She’s had people look down at her choices for as long as she’s decided to walk her path, out there in the city – and now that she knows what it’s like not to, she can’t take to be the witness to it happening in front of her. Of course, some people will always have something to say, but it should be different with those considered friends – considered family, no?

From the kitchen upstairs, Robin is calling out her name – now, suddenly, she doesn’t really want to go, especially when she knows her presence is soon to be replaced by someone else’s. So, she acts daringly. She touches his arm, as she raises to go:

“You know, I think you’re doing an amazing job, especially considering your conditions. And trust me, it really is better than being a clog in the corporate system, and your work is important, even if it’s important for you only.”

As soon as she came, she’s gone and he loses his chance of asking for more. She left behind another sloppily packed present on his desk, a piece of quartz inside. He gets up, moves to put it up on his shelves – and shit, he wonders if she noticed the other stuff she’s given him, up there.

 ***

So Robin starts coming around with her carpenter tools, sometimes so early in the morning that she’s welcoming her still in her Disney pyjamas. They drink instant coffee, warm this time – and they discuss recipes that she’d like to try in her new kitchen, or the kind of animals she’ll grow in the barn. She learns that Robin loves goat cheese, and she shares that she absolutely hates peppers. She asks about Sebastian and Maru’s childhoods, she tells of her grandpa’s favourite magic trick.

The sound of Robin’s hammer accompanies her through her motions, as she’s ploughing the land for the summer crops. She didn’t really understand how lonely she has been all these months, just going through what she has to do. It’s nice to have someone to talk to, even if just for a few stolen minutes.

Sebastian drops by during his breaks sometimes, to bring his mother’s lunch, and both women nag at him so much that he ends up eating with them, Max nestled at his feet under the table.

Once, she walks back with him towards the town; she needs to drop by Pierre’s, to order some kitchen utensils – and by Lewis’ house, to leave him a note with info on her next batch of syrup and honey, that she sells for some good prices. He strains himself to walk in a pace that matches hers, even if he just wants to hurry home and take a nap.

She noticed, how tired he looks lately: hair more dishevelled, the slight stubble on his chin, the dark under his eyes. She knows, from Robin, that he spent even more time than usual in his room, refusing to meet even Abigail or Sam. She’d like to press her palm on his forehead, check for any signs of sickness.

“Are you working a lot these days?” she asks, fumbling with the edge of her t-shirt, feeling shy and worried that she might be overstepping.

“Had a tight deadline, but it’s over now.”

He pushes the hair out of his eyes with his hand, pats the pockets of his jeans with the other. He takes out his cigarettes, and then swears.

“Shit, do you have a lighter?”

In fact, she does. Sometimes, when she goes to the mines, her flashlight flickers and dies out, so she started the habit of carrying candles on her expeditions, and always a lighter in her pocket. She offers the fire; she has to stand on her tiptoes and he has to bend down to make it work.

Sebastian looks at her; she’s determinedly staring at the ground. They’re so close that even in the summer heat, she can feel his breathe on her cheek. Once the cigarette is lit, she almost scrambles away, pressing her palms to her cheeks, complaining about the hot weather.

She starts walking faster, afraid of what she might do if Sebastian looks into her face. There’s a small smile on his face that she can’t notice.

 ***

Pierre’s store is more of a general hangout spot for his daughter, though – Maru is eating her lunch with Abigail in a corner, and she waves at the two of them as she turns towards the counter. Of course, Pierre convinces her to buy several types of flower seeds – and she walks around the town with those in her arms. She thinks she might actually be his best customer. Or easiest, which in his case, it is one and the same thing.

That’s how she meets Evelyn: in the town square, taking care of the flowers. In truth, she never stopped to think about who maintains the town, and now she seems to have her answer. There are many people around; Penny with the kids, playing in the water fountain. Mayor Lewis and Harvey discussing in front of the clinic, Gus sticking a request on the board.

But the old lady spots her shopping, and sits her down on a bench, where she lectures her on the proper way to take care of them.

Then, the tone shifts – and the older woman asks her about the animals she’s growing (they’re well), how she finds Pelican Town (nice) and what’s her favourite flower (hyacinth).

“You know,” she laughs. “I almost married your grandpa.”

She sputters, unsure how to take this wild what-if she’s presented with. Of course, if Evelyn would have ended as his wife, she wouldn’t be here at all. And still, her curiosity gets the best of her.

“What happened?”

“Oh, George – that’s my husband, dear – bought an old farm here in town and moved one day. The next thing you know, everyone was smitten with the new farmer, me included. And by then, your grandpa was already in the army.”

And when he returned from the army, he returned with a wife – that’s a story that she knows. Grandpa met her grandmother at one of the dance evenings organized for young soldiers, and if the story she was told as a child is to be believed, he danced with no one else that night, the next and all the other ones that followed.

“How was he like?”

Sometimes, when it comes to someone you love, it’s hard to consider them from another point of view than the one you were always familiar with. He has always been just her grandfather to her, yet Evelyn here has seen him growing, becoming all those things to all those many people: son, neighbour, husband, father.

“He always worked hard, stirred trouble wherever he went and loved this town like no other,” she says, a faint smile on her face, lost in memories.

That sounds like the old man alright.

“Th-thank you, Evelyn.” Her voice sounds a little chocked. Just a little.

“Psssh, please. Call me Granny.”

The old man takes her hand, squeezes her fingers in hers – and pats her butt when she gets up to go home.

 ***

“Hey, mom,” she says, pressing the phone closer to her ear. It’s the first phone call she’s making from the landline, and there are jitters all over her skin. She hates that she has to stay still, glued to one spot the length of the phone’s cable. Her brain goes in override.

“Darling!” her mother exclaims from the other side. There’s some shifting, the sound of a door closing, then a sigh. “How are you? How’s Pelican Town?”

She tries not to sniffle outright, tries not to cry that she wants her mother when she’s a fucking grown-up adult, but that really is how she feels. It was all okay, the construction almost to an end, her crops growing beautifully – and then Max gnawed at her only good pair of shoes, and the thing sent her into a spiral of self-pity. She really has no idea what on earth she is doing here.

Instead, she asks: “Did you like living here?”

She is grandpa’s only living child. After her older brother’s death, she simply packed her stuff and moved to a shitty dorm in city, got married in two months and had her almost immediately after. Nowadays, her father is drowning in alcohol and her mother is drowning in work – and she wonders if the first coping mechanism may be more useful than the latter, though her last experience seems to point to a no.

“No,” her mother says. “But depends on what you’re chasing, or what you’re running away from. So, do you like living there?”

She tugs at the phone cord, shifts on spot, looks at Max sleeping a few feet away.

“M-maybe? I don’t know.”

“That’s not a no,” her mother says, ending the call immediately afterwards.

She sits on the same spot, with the tone dead in the background for a very long time, just staring out the window at the setting sun.

 ***

With the new barn built, she visits Marnie about filling it with the appropriate animals. She’d like a sheep, just because she thinks knitting would be a useful hobby to pick up by winter. Maybe a goat, so she can make cheese and thank Robin properly for all the overtime work she put in finishing her house so early.

Jas is out with Vincent, but before discussing the price of the animal, Marnie hands her the straw hat and her picnic mat. She burns as she takes those from her, not knowing what to say. It’s been two weeks since she ran from the town’s celebration, and even now, she burns with the shame of that day. She starts looking around.

“He’s not-”

“At work, dear,” she says, and finally she starts calculating and writing down something at her desk.

“So you know.”

“Everyone knows,” she says and sounds forcefully cheerful, although she must understand what weight her words have, because the farmer is slouching in a chair, head hanging in her hands.

“There’s nothing going on,” she wails, looking up at Marnie, begging her to believe her – even if she’s just a stranger, asking for a bias against her own blood relative.

“Nothing going on anymore?” Marnie corrects, moves to pat her on the shoulder, signalling at the same time for the young woman to follow her. She nods her head, defeated, and Marnie has to wonder what exactly did this hard-working farmer see in her drunk nephew. She feels relieved to know that she put an end to it. Maybe exactly because she got involved with her good for nothing boy that she feels a bit more forgiving towards her.

She talks her in getting another chicken too, as an apology for having fucked around with her nephew. She doesn’t have the heart to correct this motherly woman that it was, in fact, the other way around. But either way, she’s forgotten.

She knows that because the next day, Penny calls her and asks her to spend the day together with the kids on the beach. She shouldn’t be that surprised to see Sam there too.

 ***

She asks everyone she gets along with over, after the house expansion is finished. She spent most morning just preparing various recipes, to fit everyone’s taste. Penny arrives first, dropping an apple pie on her kitchen counter and moving around the house to admire Robin’s work. She’s been thinking of doing something about her trailer-living situation for a while.

Abigail and Maru arrive together, with a plate of Robin’s spaghetti. Her and Demetrius decided it’s better to skip the evening, seeing how everyone else there is the same age as their children. She learns that Abigail is supposed to start her second year of university in autumn, and that Maru is going to do her master’s in astrophysics.

She whistles appreciatively, makes fun of her literature degree on the way. The two then huddle together in a corner of the porch, feeding Max stray bits of food and cooing at him when his tail starts wagging.

Sam and Sebastian arrive the last, each carrying a board game in their hands. It’s smart thinking on their side, because she’s not sure what she would have entertained her guests with otherwise. They huddle around the table, filling up plates with at least five different food recipes, passing iced tea and lemonade around. Abigail has this perfect skill of being able to imitate Lewis’ announcement voice perfectly, which in turn makes Sam snort his drink out of his noise. It makes everyone else lose it, and afterwards there’s no awkwardness hanging between them.

Penny helps Sam clean up in the kitchen, and they’re gone for way longer than necessary, though everyone else at the table is polite enough not to comment on it. Abigail and Maru, sitting one across the other, keep looking at each other while the other is not looking, and Abigail might be eating so much chocolate cake that she risks getting sick.

Sebastian sits next to her, smiling softly at a story that Penny is telling, from their time together in high-school. She should, technically, feel left out of the loop, but each time she mentions someone unknown, or a habit they used to have as a teenage group, Sebastian leans over closer to her, and whispers explanations into her ear. His voice, low and smooth, makes her feel like she’s melting down her chair.

Sam and Sebastian go out for a smoke, and she’s following them too, asking for a cigarette from Sebastian, letting her lighter pass around in a circle. The sun has already set, and there’s only the soft buzzing sound of her lamp in the air. The boys are talking about their rehearsal schedule, ask her over sometime, which she happily agrees to.

“Hey,” Sam says, kicking at her leg with his shoe. “Are you single?”

“What the fuck?!”

Sam raises his hands in the air, talking with his cigarette between his teeth. “Don’t shoot the messenger!”

She was ready to punch his elbow, but is now lowering her arm, frowning at him. Behind Sam, Sebastian continue smoking, refusing to get himself involved in this mess.

“Whose messenger?” she asks, though there’s a teasing edge in her voice, clearly proving that she doesn’t believe anything else but his own curiosity brought him to this rudeness.

“Look man – uhm, woman I guess, we’re all friends here, no judgement zone.”

“You just laughed at Maru for liking math two minutes ago!” she points out, this time her kicking his leg.

“You can just not answer the question,” Sam says, pacifying, turning towards Sebastian to offer him his lighter, as he’s already on his second cigarette.

“No, it’s fine.” She feels embarrassed for causing a scene, when it’s not even such a big deal. “I am single.”

She starts walking a bit away, making it seem like she’s inspecting the shrub just next to the stairs.

“So no Shane?” this time it’s Sebastian asking, which is surprising because she did not expect him to care.

“No Shane,” she confirms, her voice a bit weaker than she intended it to be.

Sam punches the air in a victorious movement, grinning at her.

“Thank God, that guy’s a fucking asshole.”

He shivers a bit in the cold night air, wearing only a t-shirt, and with a goodbye thrown over his shoulder, he goes back inside. Sebastian moves his hand in the air a bit, gesturing to his unfinished smoke, but she’s still not making a move to go back.

“But him and Penny… totally a thing, right?”

“Totally,” Sebastian says, and they both burst out laughing.

***

When Abigail phoned to tell her about Luau, she actually mostly whined that summer festivals are the most boring ones, because everyone is so busy tending to crops and making the most out of the long days. The farmer herself was actually taking a break, at the height of the summer heat, with a glass of iced water, but counting down the minutes before she’d be back in the garden, pulling out the weeds and gathering ripened fruits.

She still gets invited to Luau with everyone else; somewhat of a temporary, potentially forever fixture to their group. There’s a gaping hole opening in her stomach when she thinks of this, anxiety bubbling all inside her body making her feel sick. She feels like something terrible surely must happen soon, considering how much joy she gets from all these people.

She has sent some stuff to mayor Lewis, to add to the potluck soup: fresh tomato, some mushrooms, basil. But still, the thing looks completely inedible.

“Are we trying to kill the governor?” she asks, as she’s carefully looking at the bowl in her hands.

Sebastian laughs, turning his upside down in the sand. She’d really like to do the same thing.

“It’s tradition!” Maru explains, frowning at her brother.

“Are we choosing governors based on the quality of their stomach?” she tries again, this time sniffing at the stuff. Its consistency looks absolutely… gluey.

Sam joins the laughter this time, and Sebastian pats Maru’s shoulder in some attempt at an excuse. Abigail is the only one who actually eats the stuff, though her face turns somewhat pale as soon as she is done. The governor looks like he is perfectly fine, and even praises their soup, which makes everyone visibly relax.

 ***

Maru’s birthday was a solitary thing; just another ordinary working day, celebrated only with chocolate cake in the evening with the entire family. Robin builds her another bookshelf, Demetrius and Sebastian get the money for a new telescope. No other guests are invited, though random gifts still find their way to her mailbox: a stray astrology book, a new case for her glasses.

Sam’s not that different, though they all heard the rumours that immediately after his shift, he visited the museum, and spent a very, very long time there. They meet on Friday night at the Saloon though, so that the band can play and the others can cheer. They’re spectacular, as usual, and when doing something they love, all three of them look younger than she has ever seen them.

Penny is at her side, an arm looped around her waist, and they’re both swaying their bodies on the rhythm of the music. Sam winks in their direction, though the redhead pretends she doesn’t see it.

 ***

On one of their river discussions, Sebastian mentions frogs to her once; something she’s been terrified of for as long as she remembers. But there’s just such a soft smile on his face, and his voice is so calm: and as such, she thinks to give it a try. Which is exactly why he finds her one day, as he goes to visit Sam, by the river bank, on all fours, staring into the water.

She yelps when he hears him calling out to her, fluttering her arms in the air in a panic. It’s that movement that makes her stumble forward in the water. She doesn’t know how to swim, but the water is low enough to not be a problem, but as she gets up, sitting on her ass in the middle of the river, she scowls at him.

“I hate you,” she says.

He smiles, and with the sun at his back, it’s the most beautiful sight she’s seen. He offers her a hand, which she accepts gratefully, trying to remain as dignified as possible, considering that her clothes are now stuck to her body and there might be some mud on her butt.

“What were you doing?” he asks, and she immediately reddens under his attention.

She mumbles her answer; she’s a terrible liar, so she doesn’t even try. This time, Sebastian actually laughs at her, and she crosses her hands at her chest, both indignant and cold.

“I hate you,” she says again, this time accentuating each of her words. But there’s no fire behind it, so he ignores her remarks. Instead, he unzips his hoodie and, slowly, places it on her shoulders.

“But-” she starts, already moving to remove it, give it back, refuse the help, her natural instinct kicking in. He hasn’t stepped back, and having him so close, she notices the subtle smell of his aftershave, the dark marks under his eyes. She wants to get on her tiptoe and let her fingers run through his hair, so soft from up this close. Then he speaks, the magic breaking, and she moves her eyes down to her shoes, shy all of the sudden.

“Sam’s living real close, so it’s really no problem.”

He’s trying very hard not to move his eyes away from hers, face burning red with embarrassment – and only then does she realize she’s wearing a white shirt, and she’s wet –

“Oh,” she says, lamely, moving her arms through the sleeves and zipping it up. “I… I’ll wash it and bring it back to you.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” he says, before awkwardly saying his goodbyes. Sam will chew him out for being late, and Abigail will frown at him for not letting them know about this ahead of time.

But their new farmer will stand by the river bank for a long time still, looking down at the water, even when Vincent passes her by and laughs at the wet pool that dripped at her feet.

***

She likes taking the mountain path, especially during hot summer days: less people to stop and chat with under the sun, more shade from the trees, chances to see a wild bunny or a squirrel, maybe picking up some wild fruit. She learnt to enjoy these things, that felt like such a chore back in the day, when she was simply a child helping out her relatives. Maybe because, from start to finish, in everything she does for her farm, she leaves a part of herself in there.

She’s as familiar with Robin’s garden as she is with her own, and that’s why it takes her brain a bit to catch up with what she is seeing.

She didn’t even expect to see Sebastian at all, and especially not like… this. Sprawled under his motorcycle, the picture perfect of her dream boy from high-school. It’s then when it dawns on her that she might have some other reasons too, for visiting Robin today, for picking the mountain path, for going to the mines so often, even if she’ll never admit it to anyone else.

For a second, she hates him so much for having been so kind to her, for having taken care of her, for his beautiful smiles and his unending understanding. For having made her like him so much, when this recluse and silent man seems to dislike everything that she is starting to like lately.

She crushes the feeling coming up in her chest; the despair and the need to go and run as far away from him, before they make eye contact, before her beating heart goes into override.

Sebastian heard her approaching footstep though, and as he’s coming up, t-shirt clinging to his chest, she closes her eyes. God help her not to jump this man right here and now.

“Hey you,” he says, the corner of his lips lifting up a bit seeing her.

She waves, taking a deep breath as she approaches him, taking a seat on the outside bench. He picks up the tool that he needed, and goes back to work. She stays put right where she is, watching him.

“You know, it’s fascinating to watch someone do something I know nothing about,” she laughs, thinking of her useless literature degree as well, her dirt stained nails and her dead-end job back in the city, so opposed to his programming skills and the coppery smell of his motorcycle.

“That’s how I feel when you talk about farm upgrades with mom,” he says, and then asking her for another tool – it’s the round one with a yellow handle.

She shifts closer; he gets out from under the metal labyrinth of his bike enough to nod at her in thanks when she hands it to him. But he understands her feeling better than he manages to put it into words, especially since he’s been an outcast in the village for so long; heck he’s not sure anyone else but her even accepts what he’s working, let alone understand it.

But if there’s someone who can get it, it’s certainly the city girl who gave up everything to become a farmer. Much as he wants to drop everything here just for a shot at the big city. It’s the same strangling hope in his voice, that she’s detected the first time they met, when he talks about his short escapades.

He gets up, wiping his hands on a dirty old rag. There’s a dark stain on his cheek that makes him so incredibly cute, and yet the contrast couldn’t be more obvious with his muscles.

“You could come with me next time,” he says, and he purposefully looks at her, digging out her reactions.

She blushes, all red, prettily and opens her mouth to say something, closes it again. Then, with a bit too much eagerness, that makes her seem just a bit too desperate to do the right thing, she says:

“I’d love to.”

“Great,” he says, and this time it’s a full smile that he graces her with.

They move to enter the house now, the sun setting at their back, and he holds the door open for her. She has to squeeze by him, so close that she can feel the smell of oil mingled with his sweat, and the always present soft aroma of soap.

Robin is in the kitchen, preparing hot chocolate for everyone; Abigail is over too, in Maru’s room, the two’s laughter loud enough to be heard from downstairs. Demetrius is in his office, researching something in one of his biology tomes.

She immediately moves to help Robin; now familiar with the layout of her kitchen, with everyone’s favourite mug. His mother yells at Sebastian to go and take a shower before even daring to enter her kitchen, which is exactly the reason why he moves closer to her instead, loudly kissing her cheek.

Robin shrieks, hitting him with the spoon she’s holding in her hand. Their guest watches the scene with a soft smile; she likes it when there’s no bitterness between the two, which is something that comes way easier when no one else in their family is around.

She presents Robin with her first goat cheese; it’s experimental yet, really I have no idea if it’s any good, but she gathers her in her arms anyway, thanking her from the bottom of her heart. She carefully places it in her fridge.

And while Robin goes to Demetrius’ office, forcing a break out of this man as they plan to drink their hot chocolate together, she’s tasked to bringing up the girls’. She knocks, but it still doesn’t feel like sufficient incessant to stop whatever they were doing, because when she opens the door, Maru’s in Abigail arms, having a somewhat lost look on her face. Abigail’s lipstick is all over Maru’s neck, and smeared around her lips, and both their mouths are pulsing red with the pressure of shared kisses.

She blushes under their eyes, hates to have interrupted what she just did. It’s worse than if they were having sex, because the tension in the air is so thick she can choke on it.

“R-Robin said-” she tries, but she’s so embarrassed that she just leaves the tray on the desk, and all but bolts down the stairs.

Shit, she thinks.

“Shit,” she exclaims out loud as well. She’s so wind up she doesn’t hear the footsteps following her, and she almost screams when Abigail’s hand comes down her shoulder.

“Hey, look, let’s be chill about it and keep it a secret, yeah?”

“Of course,” she nods her head. “And I’m really sorry…”

“Our fault for being daring enough not to lock the door. But in our defence, we didn’t think that would happen,” Abigail says, winking at the other woman, before moving upstairs, probably to calm down her lover.

The theme of her life is that she is a big, stupid, idiotic fool. She’s been jealous for months on a relationship that didn’t even exist, and now she feels guilty and embarrassed all over again for what she did when overcome by those emotions. She stands in the middle of the hallway, hating herself so much that she would burst into flames if she had magical powers.

Sebastian finds her eventually, grounds her back to reality with a soft touch against her elbow and a soft call of her name. She startles like she’s been shot, almost jumping out of her skin, before things start refocusing around her. Sebastian, after his shower, smells like pine and mint, and he’s wearing shorts.

“Come on,” he says, slowly guiding her back to the kitchen, where their drink probably went cold already. At the back of his leg, Sebastian has a tattoo: a man lying face down, ten swords hanging above his body.

“That’s cool,” she nods her head at the design, sipping from her hot chocolate.

“Thanks. Sweet sixteen present, teenage rebellion and everything.”

“I ran away from home when I was sixteen,” she says, and Sebastian rises his eyebrows, clearly sceptical.

“For real!” she laughs. “I came here, to gramps.”

“Can’t remember you ever being up here,” he says, but now he’s curious.

“Well, of course, he called my mom the second I entered the house, and next morning she came to pick me up, but still.”

Sebastian snorts at her story, and she’s beaming at him with the largest smile possible, having gotten such a reaction out of him. It seems like it’s so easy for her to rile him up, or to get him involved enough in what she’s doing that he can’t filter his reactions anymore.

He walks her home that evening; she insisted he didn’t need to go through the trouble, since she’s out even later all the time, but Robin pushed, especially since Abigail was to sleep over, so she didn’t need Sebastian to walk her home.

In the end, she had company on the way home.

“Sorry for the trouble,” she says. Sebastian is smoking again, and only shakes his head. They continue their conversation from earlier, about how they used to be as kids and teenagers, periods in time that feels very far-away. Then she tells him of her past job, how she used to want to kill herself every time she entered the building, how there was no more city around her, and just the clutch of overwork and need for money.

She breathes easier here, she says. She hasn’t seen the stars in years, she adds.

She’s looking up at the sky, but Sebastian is looking at her.

She’s seemed lost on that first day, overwhelmed as she looked around at her inherited plot of land, and he’s given her two weeks maximum to survive in there. And here she is, rounding on six months, looking like she’s always belonged.

She hands him his sweater, thanks him again, in that sweet voice that matches her face, but not her personality when she’s swearing. He wishes the road between their houses was longer, longer than to Zuzu City, so long that they could have the entire night at their disposal.

 ***

“You’re late,” she says, from where she sits on the pier, her feet just a few centimetres above the water surface.

She’s barefoot, and she’s wearing a thin and short dress, and showing so much skin that Sebastian is a bit distracted at first. Technically, they haven’t set a meeting time, but he is indeed the last of the villagers to arrive on the beach for the dance of the moonlight jellies. By now, the others are also grouped together, leaving her alone.

She pats the space next to her. He sits down, yawning.

“Sorry, I was up until 3am reading a new book.”

She lights up then, shoots question after question at him: about his favourite authors and books, hints at the volumes he knows she’s seen on his shelf. They decide to buddy read a book together, and the next day he finds her favourite novel in his mailbox, he sends his instead. His are in pristine condition, while hers are underlined all over, notes scrambled over the margins that he spends a lot of time trying to decipher, corners dog-eared. The first few are a hit and miss, then slowly, as they go through the volumes, writing long texts and handwritten note with their thoughts on it or calling each other late into the night, they start to figure each other’s state, collections growing on each side.

On Penny’s birthday, no one can find the young woman almost the entire day. For that matter, they had the same problem with Sam too.

On Abigail’s birthday, she knocks on the farmer’s door in the middle of the night. The other woman is sleepy, bleary eyed, and she knows that something serious is going on because Abigail doesn’t even make fun of her pyjamas. She opens the door, wordlessly. Makes some tea, as Abigail plops on the rug on the floor, nuzzling Max.

She passes her a steaming cup of tea, sits in front of her in much the same manner.

“What happened?”

It takes Abigail a long time to reply, and when she does, she stumbles over words.

“I-I came out to my parents. Let’s say they didn’t take it too well. Sebastian lives with M-Maru so it didn’t feel like the smartest move, and Sam’s mother already has enough things to worry about. I had no-nowhere else to go.”

She shouldn’t be this surprised when the farmer leans closer, wrapping her arms around her, squeezing her close. Abigail reaches up her hands, tugs at the pyjama top and starts sobbing. There’s a large wet mark on the other woman’s shoulder when she is done, though she doesn’t seem to notice it as she’s running around her house, pulling out a rolled up mattress and building a make-shift bed in the middle of the room. She’s gentle as she moves Abigail to her bedroom, helps her in bed, petting at her hair, and chanting it’ll be okay over and over again.

Abigail’s already asleep when she moves to the kitchen, scrolling through her contacts list. It takes a few seconds before the person at the other end picks up, and Sebastian’s voice sounds muffled. She imagines him for a second, face half-hidden in his pillow, dishevelled hair. Then:

“It’s Abbie.”

The next day, Sam and Sebastian show up on her doorstep at 6am with chocolate cake, and they barely even greet her before moving inside, slamming open the door to the room where Abigail’s sleeping, essentially waking her up. But they also jump on the bed, squeezing themselves in the small space, peppering her face with kisses, even as she screams at them to stop, that they’re gross. But she’s laughing.

Over breakfast (eggs and salad and chocolate cake), they discuss what they should do next. There’s enough space here for two people, and it makes most sense to have Abigail live here for a while, until things calm down a bit.

“Did,” Abigail starts, unsure, playing with a tissue, “Maru tell your parents?”

“Yeah,” Sebastian says, and he feels like he really needs a smoke.

“I guess it went well.”

Abigail ends with a laugh that resounds dry and bitter in the room. Sam’s leaning towards her, holding her hand.

“Your parents will come around,” he says. “They just need to get over the initial shock.”

Except Abigail, everyone else nods. It’s hard to imagine Pierre staying mad at anyone, let alone his own daughter. But Pelican Town is a small enough place that such a thing might take a long time to forgive in the eyes of others. After the guys leave that first day, Abigail spends the entire day in bed. The next one, she joins her host for coffee, asks about the pumpkin patches.

When the Stardew Valley Fair rolls around, she helps the farmer fill Robin’s truck with her products. The older woman hugs Abigail that day like she’s a long-lost daughter, which makes her cry all over again.

 ***

The Fair itself is nice; the trees around had already started to turn orange, and it gives the place a really cosy atmosphere. Almost everyone in town buys something from her stall, and Marnie even comments that she fits right in. She enters Lewis’ competition with her pumpkins, but she loses to Shane’s chickens, which is a totally deserved win on his side, though she hates to admit.

Abigail makes up with her family that day, because the second she steps in town, her mother drops a crane of jars, swears, and runs up to her baby girl to hug the life out of her, cry and apologize. Pierre is sniffling at his stall, next to her – and she passes him her handkerchief.

Then, because Abigail is Abigail, she kisses Maru in front of everyone. George whistles, loudly and everyone laughs, which ends any discussion on the topic. With this scene, the farmer thinks she has just fallen a bit in love with the man herself.

Shane approaches her, to boast his win.

“Congrats,” she says, though she is pointedly not looking at the bow pinned to his chest. Jas has already been over, stopping everyone and showing it off.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he says, and she’s glad the stall stands between them, because she knows he would have liked to be much closer than this.

“Glad you took the hint.”

“Is the freak gang that entertaining, little girl?”

There he goes again, with his horrible nicknames and that shit-eating grin. She hopes he’d choke on all the bullshit he’s spewing, some day.

“Yes.”

She sounds firm, serious and soft at the same time. There’s a small smile on her lips as well, and probably it’s that combination that makes Shane realize she’s entirely truthful. So, he laughs. For sure, he must find her stupid and foolish, and yet she only feels relieved as he watches him walk away, shaking his head like he’s disappointed.

As evening approaches, Sebastian stops by her stall. It’s almost empty now, most of her products sold earlier in the day. He sits next to her, smoking, looking at Sam winning the big prize at darts for Penny. She all but swoons.

Sebastian gets up, throwing his cigarette to the ground and stepping on it.

“Do you want to walk around?”

She nods, he helps her up. She asks Pierre to watch over the rest of her stuff, and when they move from stall to stall, her and Sebastian are so close that their shoulder almost touch, though none moves to put more space between them. She keeps stealing glances at him, as he explains to her about his favourite stalls, and how it used to look like back in his childhood.

They eat Gus’ famous burgers, and her heart almost stops beating when he leans closer, pressing a tissue to the corner of her mouth. He starts by looking her in the eye, but then her own eyes drop to the flutter of his eyelids, the curve of his nose, eventually settling on the plumpness of his lips – and his gaze follows suit, tracing the same path on her face. They sit in silence, staring at each other, until Gus’ boisterous laugh makes them both startle.

She mumbles her thanks, looking at her plate, too afraid to look at Sebastian.

They play darts too, though she only manages to hit the target only once, and only on its furthest ring.

“Sam rigged this game, didn’t he?” she asks, which makes him smile.

Sebastian pays for his turn, raises his eyebrows at her when she’s expectantly watching him. He throws the first dart while still looking at her, and it hits bull’s eye. She screams in delight, clapping her hands together.

He moves his hand to the back of his head, embarrassed at her reaction, even if he so desperately wanted it in the first place. He asks her if she wants any of the prizes, but she shakes her head. As cheesy as it might be, for her it’s enough that she can enjoy the fair, and that she can do it alongside him.

 ***

When she counts her savings the next day, it’s not as much as she would have liked. So she starts going to the mine again, because she can sell well everything that she finds in there, and for a couple of weeks, it works out just fine. Until it doesn’t anymore.

She knows the place is old, but the crack of the stair giving way under her weight was not an expected problem. The lurking animals and the unmapped areas, sure. But not the wooden step of the stairs.

It takes her by surprise, and she doesn’t have fast enough reflexes to find another footing, so she falls all the distance to the ground. She lands on her side, and there’s a terrible crack in the shoulder that makes getting up so, so painful afterwards. She’s bleeding heavily from one of her knees as well, and several bruises are already blooming on her legs and arms.

Her flashlight also went out on impact, so at first she is disoriented, her head booming with the sound of her fall. Then she gets scared, her heartbeat in her throat, and before she can even think more of her wounds, she forces herself to count up to 100, as slowly as she can, bringing her breathing back to normal, forcing her body to refuse the incoming panic attack just yet.

No one knows she’s in the mine right now, so technically even if they were to notice her disappearance, it will take a while until they find her. And it was already dark outside, judging from the last time she looked at her watch, which makes searching for her unsafe until at least tomorrow morning. She can’t just stay here and wait for someone to find her, even if that is all that she truly wants to do.

She winces when she finally raises to her feet. She’s unstable and everything hurts, but she’s most worried about her arm. She tried to pick up her discarded flashlight, but the movement hurt so much she left out an agonized wail.

Tears start biting at her eyes when she bumps into the stairs, after fumbling through the dark for it. She tries not to think of all the steps until the surface, and then her walk back home – and instead tries to take it one step at a time. She can support her weight only on one arm, and her legs hurt each time she raises them, the skin at her knee ripping open a bit more with each move of her leg up. She takes it one at a time, stops often to breathe deeply, give some part of her body some respite. She struggles even more when she finally gets to the broken stair, and she has to cover twice the distance.

When she eventually collapses on the ground at the entrance to the cave, she can smell the fresh night air, and she can hear the rustling of the leaves, and she starts crying. Somewhere down there, where the mine caved in, trapping workers under the stones and dirt and in unending hallways, is the body of her uncle. Of course, she could have easily shared the same fate today, if she would have been a bit higher, if she would have fallen on one of the sharp stones littering the lower floors instead.

She forces herself, again, to just breathe. But even as she makes herself stand up and walk the long way home, her mind is drifting further and further away, the pain now more dulled at the edge.

That’s why she doesn’t catches when someone calls out her name, doesn’t realize she’s not alone anymore until said person catches her arm to make her stop. Unfortunately, it is her hurt arm, and she shrieks, tears pooling at her eyes, as she’s stumbling away.

Sebastian stares at her, mouth agape, looking like he’s just seen a ghost. He moves his eyes over her body, taking in her state, though he’s unsure in some spots, if the stains on her clothes are blood or dirt.

“Shit, you need to see a doctor,” he says, moving closer again, but she flinches upon his approach.

He passes a frustrated hand through his hair. Dumbly, she wonders what he is doing out here, by the river, in the middle of the night.

“Can I touch you?” he asks. He’s still keeping his distance, though he’s looking at her in a strange way, like she’ll fall off her feet at any moment. Although she nods, this time more aware, more in tune with her surrounding, this time around he approaches more slowly, careful with his movements.

She leans onto him, sighing in relief.

“This will hurt,” he says, and before she has time to think about it, he gathers her in his arms, head at the crook of his neck, her good arm around his shoulder, as he starts carrying her. She just whimpers pathetically, at his chest, blushing furiously and trying not to overthink the gesture, or her weight, or the fact that they’re stopping in front of Harvey’s clinic at fuck knows what time.

Harvey answers on the second knock, looks at the state she’s in and simply mumbles I need my coffee, allowing them inside. Sebastian is still carrying her the flights of stairs up, before finally setting her down on a bed. He’s breathing hard by now, but he’s not complaining. In the light, she can see how wild and panicked his eyes are, how deep his frown is as he searches her body for wounds.

Now that they can see, her shoulder is at a weird angle.

“I’ll have to set it back,” Harvey says, sipping loudly from a fresh cup of coffee, sitting on a chair next to her bed. He looks up at Sebastian, checks the time on his wrist watch. “You can go if you want to.”

“I’ll stay,” he replies almost immediately, making her shiver on the bed, a movement that both men catch. “If that’s okay with you.”

She nods, pleading with Harvey to let him stay, to which he agrees. His job is not made any more difficult, since Sebastian looks perfectly healthy, the weird sleep schedule aside. She doesn’t notice when Sebastian moves, shifts so he can sit next to her on the bed, wrapping his fingers around hers.

Harvey descends like a shadow above her, snapping her bones back in place. She squeezes Sebastian’s hand in her good one, so hard that his bones crack, her fingers digging in his skin until they draw blood. But she only inhales sharply, letting out a string of soft curses, teeth grinding together in pain. When she looks at them, she feels only betrayed, because they both clearly knew what was to come, and did their best to make it as fast as possible.

Harvey hands her a glass of water and some painkillers, and only then does she realize she’s still holding onto Sebastian’s hand. She lets go slowly, smiling at him, patting his hand in silent thanks, though Sebastian cannot smile back at her.

“So what happened?” Harvey asks, moving on to cutting open the leg of her pants, cleaning up the cuts, disinfecting her wounds.

She speaks, evenly, though her panic shows through in some parts, and Sebastian rubs calming circles on her back with his palm. She leans into his touch, swaying in place, eyes fluttering closed, opening them again at a slower and slower pace.

“You should sleep here tonight, so I can monitor your condition,” Harvey says, and Sebastian rises, helping her lay down on the bed, covering her with the blanket, as she’s already fallen asleep.

The two men move downstairs in silence. The clock on the wall shows 4 a.m.

 ***

She wakes to Granny knitting on a chair next to her bed. It’s such an odd image that it takes her a while to recall all the events of the night before. Then, she startles upright.

“Easy, darling, all’s good,” Granny says, though she didn’t even look up at the younger woman.

She learns that Marnie visited her farm earlier, feeding her animals. Abigail took Max to her place, Penny came by with pie. And Sebastian is downstairs, on his 3rd coffee of the day, not having gone home since he first dropped her at the clinic.

Granny smiles to herself when the patient looks longingly at the door, her skin on fire.

 ***

Harvey keeps her for one more night, though she is feeling alright, and she insists so to everyone coming around to check on her. She thought Robin will pick her up, something that she agreed to after much pestering from the woman, but instead the one waiting for her in front of the clinic, leaning on Robin’s truck, is Sebastian.

“Mom had something come up,” he says, moving to get her backpack, filled with the stuff from the mine and some clothes that Abigail picked for her. He opens the truck’s door for her.

“I could have just walked,” she says, though her leg is still stiff.

He shuts the door on her, and until he joins her in, she has time to mull over what exactly she wants to say.

“Thank you,” she beings. “For everything and I’m sorry.”

She fidgets on the spot, as he starts the engine and begins driving.

“Why are you apologizing?” his voice is soft, the corner of his mouth tilted up just the tiniest bit.

“For all the trouble?”

It sounds more like a question,

“You know I’d gladly be troubled for you.”

She does not know that, in fact. She turns to look out the window, at the stretch of trees on the road to her farm, and she wonders when she became such a person to others.

When they arrive, she invites him in, but he politely refuses. She needs to rest. But he does walk back to the car, fiddling with the gloves compartment, coming back with something in his arms. He presents it to her, carefully wrapped, and watches attentively as she opens it, catching her reaction.

In her hands, she has the first volume of what she knows is Sebastian’s favourite comic.

Abigail will tell her, later on, that before he came to pick her up, he drove all the way to Zuzu City so he could pick a copy for her. So on an autumn rainy day, she makes herself a cup of tea, and curls in her bed, opening the book.

She takes her sweet time, searching every detail in the art, rewriting particular quotes in her journal. Then her thoughts fly without her even wanting to, to a particular someone she’d like to have next to her, to explain her favourite parts. She’d like to have him by her side more than that though, as she wakes and works, a person that makes it so much easier for her to just be.

She’s a fool – she tries to tell herself, hugging the book close to her chest. There’s nothing she can offer Sebastian that would make him stay in this village he so obviously loathes. She’s just dumb enough to have fallen for the man she cannot even bring herself to ask to love her back. But the image is now stuck on a loop in her mind: stray sun rays filtering through the curtain, and Sebastian in the door frame, with her mug of coffee in his hands, offering it to her as she wakes.

She tortures herself with thoughts like this afterwards, whenever she finds a moment of respite in her work, as she hurries to sell the last of her crops, to preserve the mushrooms, fill the sill with grains for the animals and the storage outside with wood.

 ***

The first time she gets out of her property after the accident is to attend a dinner on Robin’s birthday. In the town here, it’s not a big deal, so she feels particularly honoured to have the older woman invite her.

However, Robin sends Sebastian to pick her up. She’s on the porch, bundled up in her favourite sweater and a shawl, petting Max, when he pulls up in her courtyard on his motorcycle. He’s wearing a leather jacket, and as he moves to get her helmet, she’s only staring at the way his muscles are straining under the material.

He helps her put it on, clasping it under her chin, his fingers lingering on her skin, and they stare in each other’s eyes for a few long seconds. Then, he holds out a hand, helping her get up, and guides her arms around his waist.

She’s basically glued to his back, and she wonders if he can hear how loudly her heart is beating. He tightens his hold against her arms, signalling that she should hold on tighter, and she does, even though she closes her eyes to will the embarrassment away.

Robin welcomes her with an enthusiastic hug, and she’s delighted to see Abigail has been invited as well, and she’s now sitting next to Maru at the table, discussing something with Demetrius. She’s sent her present in the mail earlier this day, more goat cheese and a few quartz pieces, and the redhead thanks her happily.

When she passes Sebastian on the hallway, she stops for a few seconds to thank him for the ride, warmly clasping his hand in hers. Then just as quickly she lets go, joins everyone else in the kitchen.

Most of the conversation is just the parents dotting on the newly formed couple, though there is a passing comment of the pumpkin soup currently served being Sebastian’s favourite food, so she makes a note to ask the recipe from Robin the next day. There’s an anecdote about how Demetrius and Robin first met, though it makes both their children cringe at how young and lovesick they still sound recalling it. Abigail talks about her studies, Maru continues, though their degrees are vastly different.

The farmer turns to look at Sebastian.

“What about your work?”

The conversation stills, a bit awkward. No one ever asks what Sebastian is doing, since freelancing is such a grey area in their mind – though they fail to see that almost everyone in this town is the goddamn owner of their own work.

“Well,” he starts, playing with the food on his plate. “Actually I’ve got a promotion recently and a really big project coming up.”

She clasps her hands together, beaming up at him.

“That’s wonderful, isn’t it?”

Everyone at the table nods politely, Robin even congratulation her son. But he thinks of her question, and lately the answer seems to be no, because each of his successes brings him closer to leaving Pelican Town, and he’s not sure he wants to anymore.

 ***

By the end of the evening, everyone is more or less tipsy, made soft by the drink and the warmth of the house. Robin insists that she should sleep over, afraid to let her return home this late. She almost puts Sebastian and Maru in one room, but the daughter refuses so vehemently, that Sebastian instead just tells her he’ll take the couch. Their mother stares for a long time after both of her children, as each turns to their guest, and instead decides to retire for the night, together with Demetrius.

That’s how she ends up sitting on Sebastian’s bed, as he’s searching for a towel and some clothes for her.

“Maru is leaving next spring for a research program,” he explains. “That’s why-”

“She wants to make the most out of it,” she continues.

“Yeah.”

He understands the feeling; it’s why he’s more often than not out of his house these days, afraid that one day he’ll have to root himself out of this place, and he will leave many things behind to regret. And many people he will miss.

He throws the clothes in her direction, points her to the direction of the bathroom.

She’s feeling more awake after the shower, and she’s drying her hair with a towel as she enters his room again. She wears one of his hoodies, but on her it looks almost like a dress, coming down halfway to her knees, sleeves rolled several times over. The sweatpants are equally as large.

“I like your socks,” she says, wiggling her toes, an ugly, green gooey face dancing with the movement.

She’s way too freakin cute, Sebastian thinks, though he only smiles at her as he passes her to go and take a shower. When he returns, she’s snuggled in his bed, a comic book in hands, the sequel to the present he’s given her before. She doesn’t hear him come in until he plops on the couch, and then she looks up at him, cheeks immediately flushing.

“Aren’t you cold?”

He’s wearing a tank top, loose enough around the chest area that she can see his collarbones. She knows she’s staring, yet she can’t tear her eyes away from the skin of his arms, or the taut stretch of his top against his chest. When eventually, finally, she moves her gaze up to his face, he’s smirking, clearly having caught her in the act.

“I never get cold,” he replies, shrugging, though he tenses the muscles on his arm, and her gaze immediately snaps back there.

He’s outright laughing right now, which makes her turn her back to him, pulling the blanket over her entire body and mumble an embarrassed good night.

But she has a very, very hard time falling asleep.

 ***

“I don’t wanna go,” she whines at Sam, pulling at his clothes, dragging him away from the maze.

He just laughs, tugging her harder instead. His little brother scared her as soon as she arrived for Spirit’s Eve, and since then she refused to leave his side, on edge all the time.

The town is decorated in skulls and supersized spiders, and Abigail took to walking around with a witch hat on and a sword in her hands, which everyone agreed was cool but also relatively worrisome.

She swears, loudly, clinging even closer to Sam’s arm, when Sebastian joins them, carrying two glasses of punch. He chuckles, but still passes one of them to her.

“You don’t celebrate Spirit’s Eve in the city?”

“Well,” she says, taking a large gulp of her drink. “There it’s more about getting shit-faced in a club, and less about your heart going for a run when you turn the corner of the street.”

“Amen, sister,” Sam yells, grabbing her glass and downing it all in one go.

“Hey!” She punches his shoulder.

“It made you laugh though!” he says, leaving so he can get her a refill, and well, he’s not wrong, because now she feels way more at ease than before.

Sebastian shifts closer to her, for which she is grateful.

“Is it really that bad?”

“I just hate jump scares,” she whines, again. “And I’m sure the maze is filled with them.”

“You know you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, right? We can just sit on a bench and watch the skeletons.”

“We?”

He’s pressing his palm to his neck. “Well I’ve cleared the maze every year, so.”

So they sit, together.

 ***

Back in the city, she can never tell when it will snow anyway – but here in town, the air is crisp and cold for days before. Robin shows up one early winter morning, and helps her isolate the house as much as possible, around the windows and the doors, so that no cold seeps in, so that all the warmth stays. She might need to renovate the house next year, but for now, it will have to be enough.

Robin sips at the coffee she’s been offered, and pretends not to see Sebastian’s books sprawled all around the farmer’s house, on the kitchen counter, on the bed, next to the TV. She also equally doesn’t comment on one of Sebastian’s jackets hanging on the back of the chair that the young girl is currently occupying. Robin takes another sip, and smiles in her cup.

Back in the city, when it snows, it never piles; part car fumes, part all the people walking around doing their business. But here in the town, when she wakes up one morning, all she can see around her house is a wide expanse of whiteness. Max runs past her, jumps into the snow, comes back in so wet but so happy, that she doesn’t mind having to towel him near the fire from the fireplace.

But she’s left with too much time on her hands; she watches Queen of Sauce almost obsessively, following along in her own kitchen, surprised when her food is actually good. She starts knitting, phoning Granny each time she stumbles through a row. She reads, almost obsessively. And she does go to the mines, but for shorter periods now, scared of not repeating her injury, even if the Adventurer’s Guild repaired the broken stairs.

Then Sam calls her over one day and welcomes her to the world of DnD, him and Sebastian more or less forcing everyone else to start a new campaign with them. It’s the happiest she’s seen them both, so she tries to keep up with the characters, stops to ask about plot holes. They explain things in tandem, finishing each other’s sentences, for almost an entire hour, because you see, this race can’t have this magical power. Sam pulls out his guide, passing it around so that everyone can look up the kind of character they want to create.

That first evening together, that’s all they do in fact: filling stat sheets, searching reference pictures on the internet. And they eat Jodi’s delicious snacks, gossip a bit about Marnie and mayor Lewis’ affair, that the whole town knows about but somehow only the two of them missed this detail.

They turn it into a weekly meeting, rotating their meeting place through all their houses, sometimes the Stardrop Saloon in the days when they know it’ll be more empty and calm. They fight imaginary battles, Sam’s voice guiding them through cities and enemies and friends, saving each other’s asses and forging alliances. It’s the best fun she’s had since arriving in the town, though if anyone were to tell her this a year ago, she would have laughed directly into their faces.

They break the tradition only once, when instead they decide to go ice-skating. Each winter, if the temperatures are low enough, the lake freezes, making it a perfect rink. To be fair, it’s her favourite sport – probably only sport that she’s so excited to do, that she jumps on the spot as she waits for her turn to lend a pair of skates.

She’s looking a bit ridiculous, wearing 3 different layers and one of her grandpa’s padded vests, a beanie on top of her head. Sebastian finds her just really cute. She skates around holding one of Maru’s hands, Abigail the other – because she’s the only one who doesn’t really know how to do it.

Then Sam starts a game of tag with Jas. So they start chasing each other around, yelling when they’re caught only to start again. Penny almost trips, but Sam’s catches her hand and stabilizes her, even if he’s it now. Abigail and Maru skate around holding hands, working more like one person than two separate ones, though Abigail lets go only when it’s her turn to chase someone; and she’s fast as a flash, her turn over in under a minute.

She touches the farmer’s back, and she’s left in the middle of the frozen lake, trying to think who to go after. Her intention is to go after Vincent, his voice shrill with happiness when he realizes he has to run away from her, but her skates catch in the ice.

She only has time to gasp out a swearword, preparing to fall flat on her face. But there’s an arm around her waist, though the angle is awkward and her weight too heavy, so both of them fall to the ground.

She blinks, trying to make sense of the new position. She didn’t hit the cold ice, instead Sebastian’s body cushioned her fall. She’s on top of him, hands on either side of his head, and she’s staring into his eyes. She’s so close that she can feel his chest heaving.

“You good?” he asks, a hand moving to settle around her waist.

It snaps her out of it. “Shit, I’m the one who should be asking that.”

She’s trying to get up, though she’s embarrassed and fumbling, and her first movement just positions her ass on Sebastian’s thighs and crotch area. He shudders, inhaling loudly – and she can feel him stir under her.

“Oh,” is all that she can say, eyes blown wide catching his. Though there’s something more there: curiosity, and a growing interest.

“You guys okay?!” Sam’s voice is distant to her ears, though she waves a hand in the air, to both show that they’re okay and ask for a break from their game. Sebastian says nothing, looking up at her like a man found guilty of murder, face flushed, though he hasn’t moved his hand from her waist.

She grinds her hips, pushing harder against Sebastian’s body, watching in fascination as he’s squeezing his eyes shut, a frown on his forehead.

“Stop,” he says, sounding wound up and chocked.

So she does, rolling from on top of him, pulling herself to her feet, smiling when offering him a hand up. Though he’s not smiling back, he takes her hand.

***

“Happy birthday!” she shouts, when Sebastian opens the door to his bedroom, holding up her present to him.

Behind him, music plays loudly, and she can see Sam and Abigail arguing about who gets the last slice of pizza. She’s the last to arrive, but that’s also partially because outside there’s a real blizzard. Penny comes to hug her in greeting, and she high-fives Sam. Most of the time, they just drink and joke around, chatting about random things, his oldest friends telling tales of Sebastian.

After a couple of hours, Sebastian catches her eyes, motions towards the outside. Sam has given up smoking, being more of a social smoker, just like her. But since he got together with Penny, a fact to which they finally admitted after merciless teasing from Abigail, he quit.

They stop in the hallway, putting on their coats – and she hands him the present again, though he hasn’t noticed her coming up with it.

“You might find useful what’s in here.”

So he opens it to find a matching hat and scarf, in a dark navy. They’re clearly handmade, and handmade by her he suspects – and he’s touched by the time and care she had to put in her gift. Nestled between the material, there’s also a frozen tear.

“God, I-I love this. Thank you.”

She beams at him, obviously relieved. He puts the frozen tear carefully in the pocket of his jacket. She helps him with the scarf and the beanie, her hands lingering on his shoulder for a second afterwards, admiring him.

Outside, in the courtyard corner where they’re smoking, there’s a snowman. Sebastian almost feels like kicking it when she mentions in passing that it’s cute.

“I built a snowgoon but Demetrius made me get rid of it, yet Maru’s cute little snowman still stands…”

He didn’t mean to sound this bitter. She shifts, coming in closer, taking his empty hand in hers.

“If I just disappeared, would it even matter?”

He means it like a rhetorical question, just for himself – but she’s strengthening her grip on him, forcing him to look at her. She wants him to understand that she’s entirely serious.

“It would matter to me.”

 ***

It’s drizzling, a mix of snow and rain, weather suddenly warming up. On the beach, anyway, snow never piles up, and when Sebastian turns around, he finds her standing a few feet away, staring out into the sea. She is drenched, shivering lightly with each gust of wind, and now that her concentration has been snapped by his movement, she’s staring at him instead.

He gestures her closer, and she stops by his side. Now, closer, he can see that she’s shivering more violently than he initially though, and she’s certainly not dressed properly for the weather.

“What are you doing out here?” he asks, softly, pushing some of her hair behind her ear. She closes her eyes, head leaning toward his touch, and he finds himself cupping her cheek without thinking too much about it.

“What are you doing out here?” she counters, blinking up at him.

Maybe it’s the absolutely pathetic state that both of them are into that makes him answer honestly to the question. Or maybe it’s the fact that it’s her.

“Looking out at the bleak horizon… It makes me feel like it’s worthwhile to keep pushing on.”

He shrugs, trying not to look as serious as his statement. Lately, he’s been having more reasons to believe that same thing, but old habits die hard, and there’s a particular calmness in being somewhere where no one else is. Or, he thinks, looking down at her, almost no one.

“I just like the sea,” she says, and any awkwardness that he still felt dissipates with her admission. The water is raging, stirred on by the storm, crashing violently against the pier, and they stand in silence, his hands carefully petting her hair, pulling her closer when she shivers again.

“Fuck, do you want to catch your death?”

He undresses quickly, placing his jacket over her shoulders. It doesn’t make much of a difference, but it’s more waterproof than what she’s wearing, and also carrying his warmth. He pops open the umbrella he’s carrying, and with an arm around her shoulder, pulls her to his chest.

“You know,” he starts, his palm rubbing circles on her back. “I would normally feel anxious doing this with anyone. But somehow, you’re the exception.”

Her head turns, chin resting on his chest so she can look up at him.

“I want to kiss you,” she says, and Sebastian chokes on whatever he wanted to say before. “Can I?”

She’s on her tiptoes now, her lips so close to his that their breathes are mingling, yet she’s giving him the choice of covering the remaining distance. Which he does, hungrily, almost desperate for it, both hands cupping her cheeks as their mouths clash. The umbrella falls into the water, and yet they don’t care enough to notice it.

They stop for a moment, coming up for air, and then they’re back at it, and despite the fire growing at the pit of her stomach, the kiss is languid, exploring, tongue pressing against tongue. Slight movement, a change in their position to deepen the kiss, her fingers now playing in the hair at the nape of his neck, his hands at her waist.

He kisses her like he never kissed somebody else, and went hungry for it all this time. His fingers move under her sweater, and the sudden cold touch makes her break apart. His touch turns comforting, pressing against her skin, and she sighs. Their foreheads meet.

“Fuck, I wanted to do that for so long,” he breathes and she laughs.

“We are two idiots, right?”

“Big idiots,” he nods, and she takes his hand in hers, starts pulling him in the direction of her house.

 ***

She starts the fire in the house, as he’s slowly undressing layer after layer. In the bathroom, the bathtub is filled with hot water, waiting for him. He’s down to a t-shirt and his boxers when he cups her elbow in his hand.

“Join me?” he asks, voice a bit strained, but firm.

She can only nod, dazed, not trusting that this is not just a dream, afraid that speaking will ruin the moment. He sits down on the edge of the tub, gesturing for her to come closer. She’s standing in front of him, and he’s gentle in guiding her out of her clothes, letting them drop to the floor. He strays from his purpose sometime, to press a kiss against her hip, or at the tip of her fingertips.

When she eventually ends up stark naked, his eyes are hungry, but his touch not, as he guides her inside the hot tub. She sighs in pleasure, closing her eyes. She opens them again when she hears the rustling of clothes, to watch him undress. He’s a bit slow, a bit shy, joining her inside the tub. The water almost spills over. She tries not to think of his cock, the precum leaking. She tries to ignore the uncomfortable heat growing between her legs.

She helps him shampoo his hair, he washes her back. They go off track from time to time, kissing lazingly for a long time, his hands massaging her breasts, her teeth grazing his neck. Until she moans, a loud sound. Until he gasps, her name caught between his lips.

Then, with ease, he helps her out. They share one, large towel, huddling together until they reach her bedroom, giggling like children. They’re almost to the bed when he stops, looks at her.

“We don’t have to do anything.”

He’s a liar, because his cock is pulsing with want and she can feel him against her hip. She pouts.

“But I want you.”

He kisses her pout away, pushes at her shoulder until she falls to the bed with a yelp, hands wrapping against him, taking him down with her. She’s laughing, pleased with having him on top of her, when his mouth moves downwards on her body, kissing against her collarbones, sucking at the skin, biting at the skin, until there’s a dark mark behind. He throws her a pleased grin, moving lower yet again.

Sebastian takes one of her nipples in his mouth, a hand moving up to tease the other. Her hands immediately wrap in his hair and she gasps. He pulls at the sensitive area, with his teeth and his fingers, licking it better immediately afterwards, and she writhes under him. He kisses his path downwards, though his lips kiss at her hips, he bites at her thighs, always circling around where she most wants him.

“Seb,” she whines. “Please.”

He stops his ministrations to look at her, frowning and pouting, hair dishevelled against her pillows, her body flushed all over, his marks so obvious against her skin. He feels himself growing at the sight, though he smirks at her.

“Please what?”

She blushes.

“Please eat me out?”

It sounds like a plead and a question and a prayer and a command all at once, and he’s on her in the blink of an eye, tongue lapping at her folds. Her back arches, but his hands are keeping her in place – and he maintains a constant, slow rhythm.

Until he doesn’t, one of his fingers entering her in full, with ease. Sebastian chuckles.

“You’re so wet, baby.”

Her walls squeeze at the nickname. He adds another finger; watches, transfixed, as it disappears inside with the same ease. He starts pumping them inside her, and the sound of her wet pussy taking it all in is so hot, that he groans.

Buried down in her to the knuckles, he opens his fingers apart. She moans, pushing down, searching for more, more, more. He scissors her, spreading her wide – and his head moves lower yet again, lips kissing against her clit at first.

Then, he adds a third finger. He can feel her stiffen under him, so he pulls her clit in his mouth, rolling his tongue around it, just as he starts pumping his fingers inside her. Now her hands are holding on to her sheets, and she’s mumbling some curses, halfway lost to her pleasure, moans louder and louder as he speeds up.

He raises his head just for a second, to chuckle against her heated pussy.

“Come, baby.”

So she does, and he continue pumping inside of her, letting her ride her orgasm. She still sighs when he pulls out his fingers, immediately missing the feeling of being filled up with him. He moves to pepper her face with kisses, petting at her now sweated forehead.

“You did so well, baby.”

He’s teasing her, knowing how much she likes the nickname. So instead she looks down between their bodies, his cock against his navel, leaking – and looking like the most beautiful dick she has ever seen in her life. It’s not the biggest one she’s seen, but he’s thick and she’s never wanted to taste something more than the cum that’d spill out of it.

Still staring, she moves her hands to grab it, her fingers dancing over it, starting with his leaking tip, spreading his precum all over his length, before stopping with a slight squeeze at its base. Sebastian shivers over her, eyes closed, mouth open in an unspoken prayer, because he’s not sure even god can help him now.

Holding his dick in her hands, she helps him adjust at her entrance. At first, he teases against her cunt, pressing his cock between her folds, rocking his hips back and forth as they both moan in tandem. She’s already dripping over the sheets again.

He grabs at her hand, fingers entwined.

“You ready?”

“For that dick? Born ready,” she says, chuckling, but not moving her eyes away from where he’s starting to push inside her.

“Fuuck,” he says, just as she moans, only the tip in. The stretch is painful, but so fucking delicious and she’s a blabbering mess begging for more, pulling him closer with her free arm. He slams inside her, forcing the rest of his length inside in one go, and she swears. He kisses at her eyebrows, at the tip of her nose, apologizing softly.

“Tell me when to move again,” he says, and true to his words, he seems content to just kiss her, tongue at her neck, words whispered and lost in her hair, but making her shiver nonetheless just because there’s the hot breath so close to her skin. She’s trying to adjust to his entirety of him inside her, not hurtful but not entirely comfortable just yet either, and his mouth now licking at her hypersensitive nipple seems to slowly do the trick.

“Move,” she says, and he does.

He’s slow at first, almost frustratingly so, pulling out almost entirely, before slowly filling her up again. She moans, drawn out sounds, with each movement – and she almost doesn’t notice when the speed picks up, when she starts moving her hips to meet his actions. They’re a mess of grunts and moans, gasps and swears – and he squeezes so hard at her hip when she comes again, the orgasm washing over her with an intensity that it’s almost blinding, that she’s sure he’ll leave bruises.

Sebastian looks like a man in pain, inside her as she’s coming back to herself after the orgasm. She kisses his cheek, hands rubbing against his chest muscles.

“Do you want to cum all over me?”

He almost trips with the haste that he’s pulling out of her. She’s waiting, on her back, tongue lolling out of her mouth. Sebastian rises on his knees – it’s embarrassing that he only needs two more pumps to come. Most of it falls on her tits and neck, though she’s happily licking every bit that she can reach with her tongue, swallowing it all like a good girl.

“Fuck,” Sebastian says, falling next to her on the bed. “You’re so fucking sexy.”

She beams at him, getting closer. They kiss for a while, bored and tired and messy, teeth clanking together, tongue at the corner of the mouth. There’s a string of saliva between their lips when they separate.

She gets up, goes to the toilet, returns all cleaned up, before coming back to the warmth of the bed, dragging the covers over both of them. Sure, the sheets are dirty, but that’s a problem for her future self, because right now, all she wants to do is snuggle at Sebastian’s back, an arm draped over his waist. So that’s what she does.

 ***

When they wake, they fuck on the kitchen counter, the angle hitting her just right. Truthfully, half of her butt is in the air, her legs wrapped around Sebastian’s torso, as he snaps his hips up in her, deeper and deeper each time. She’s never been so glad she doesn’t have neighbours in her entire life. Maybe because it’s been so long on her part, or because Sebastian is really just that good, she’s loud – and she loves to feel him stirring inside her, with each of her moans and praises.

“So good,” she gasps, fingers digging almost painfully in his back, and he proves his point by ramming into her, ripping a sob of pleasure out of her.

He’s wearing a condom this time around, so there is no mess to clean up, and they drink their coffee afterwards – talking about this and that, not even skimming the topic of what they’re doing, or why.

He kisses her goodbye though.

And on Winter Star, while she’s getting ready for the feast with everyone else, Sebastian comes by. He welcomes him warmly, and he sits on the side of her bed, watching her finish her make-up and doing her hair, and though he doesn’t move, she keeps catching his eyes in the mirror, looking at her every movement hungrily.

“We’re not fucking after all this effort I just put in,” she says, pointedly plucking her lips and applying a bright, red lipstick.

“I want to take you out on a date,” he says, ignoring her childish theatrics, but shaking his head with a soft smile.

“Sure.”

She tries to sound nonchalant, but her heart is beating in her chest. As much as she’d like to have him bend her over the table and take her like a bitch in heat, she’d much prefer him being her boyfriend while he does so.

“Good, let’s go then.”

“Now?” she yelps, when he grabs her hand and walks her towards the entrance.

“Now,” he says. He helps her putting on her beret, she straightens the scarf around his neck. “I’ve already called Sam and told him we won’t make it to the feast.”

“You did? What did he say?”

“To have condoms on me,” Sebastian says, face serious, which is why it makes her snort.

“And?” she’s wiggling her eyebrows at him. “Do you?”

He slaps her butt as she’s getting out instead of a reply. She turns at him, the slightest darkness in her eyes.

They go for a ride, promise not forgotten. They drive for a long time, and when they finally reach their destination, he tells her to keep her eyes closed, keeps his palms against her eyes as he guides her steps.

When he moves his hands away, she gasps. Spread ahead of her, the lights of Zuzu City against the usual darkness of the night. Sebastian moves next to her, grabs her hand in his.

“I come here when I want to get away from everything and just… think.”

He’s been doing this a lot lately, ever since she came to the valley, became his friend. Torn between his dreams of the city and the familiarity of home, he came here often thinking about what he should do.

He’s fumbling with his cigarettes, before eventually lightning one. Leaning against his motorcycle, she’s still looking out at the landscape in front of them.

“It gives such a strange, sad feeling…”

She’s almost saying it to herself. She doesn’t understand why he is showing this to her, and she can only think of how much he wants to be a part of those lights shining in the distance. She knows, if he is to walk that path, there’s nothing she will do to stop him.

Sebastian gets close to her, slings an arm around her shoulder. His gaze is still fixed to the city out in the distance, but when he speaks, it’s all just for her.

“The city used to draw me in… but now I’m finding myself happier at home in the valley.”

Her head snaps up so fast that it almost hurts. She doesn’t trust herself to say anything, afraid she’s overstepping, afraid she actually misunderstands whatever is going on, afraid to hope too much.

He turns to her, knuckles slowly caressing her cheek.

“You’re the only one I ever brought to this place. You know what I’m trying to say, don’t you?”

She shakes her head; wants to hear it. He leans down, pulling her close with his other arm, covering her sound of surprise with his mouth, kissing her. She doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to his kisses; he’s a passionate but patient kisser, drawing out the movements for as long as possible, biting and licking at her lips, smiling smugly and lazily at her when he is done.

“I want us to be together. For real.”

She jumps in his arms, the move making him stumble a bit, but they’re not falling. She looks in his eyes, the gaze as touching and passionate as it’s ever been.

“I love you, Sebastian.”

“Wha-”

But she kisses him.

 *** 

She’s obsessed with saying those three words. Now that she has the right to say it, it blooms out of her at his every gesture. She says it out loud without embarrassment or care as to whoever else can hear it. She says it as good morning and as good bye. She says it when he stays the night, and when he asks her over to play a new game together. She says it in front of Maru and mayor Lewis. She says it when he comes inside of her. She says it when he lets her borrow his sweater. She says it when he calls her in the evening after work.

It makes him dizzy with how wanted she makes him feel.

It’s the middle of the night and they’re waiting, alongside everyone else from the city, for the clock to strike exactly 12, and the fireworks to blast into the sky. She’s holding onto his arm, chatting happily with Sam about a cover song they’re planning. Her weight, next to him, is something new to get used to – but she’s always fitting herself right there with so much ease, that it seems almost natural.

The countdown begins, mayor Lewis’ voice booming across the square. At 8, she joins in. At 3, he does too. The fireworks blast with a loud noise, and she squeezes herself closer to him, her eyes to the colouring sky, her lips to his ear.

“Make a wish, babe.”

She closes her eyes, thinking of everything she wants in the upcoming year. He looks at her.

“So, what did you wish for?” he asks.

She tugs at his jacket, kisses him.

“You.”

[hlupdate]

At the start of 2020, Louis Tomlinsonhad just kick started his solo career off proper – his debut album ‘Walls’ was released in January and he performed two dates of his world tour before the COVID-19 pandemic hit and every other date was either postponed until next year or cancelled. Fans of the former One Direction star were gutted (of course) but their happiness has been restored as Louis played his first virtual gig last night.

You might expect that a virtual concert consists of just a singer and their band sat in an empty venue, right? With no lights or affects, and in a way it looks ‘boring’? Well this was the complete opposite! The classic Louis red lighting and the strobe lighting almost made you believe that you were actually there in real life!

Louis walked out on stage with his new haircut – it’s a lot longer than what fans were used to seeing. Has he been spending too much time with Harry Styles, who knows? He kept things casual in a laidback £22 Reebok t shirt which is now sold out in every single size due to Tomlinson’s influence.

He then kicked the concert off (15 minutes late may I add – fans are convinced that he wanted to watch the football) with ‘Just Hold On’. This is a song he originally produced with Steve Aoki and is more of a dance record, a bit different to the indie sound he is now leaning towards. But, he adapted the four-year-old record to his new style and it was a great surprise for fans – especially to kick off the livestream.

He then continued to sing ‘We Made It’ and ‘Don’t Let It Break Your Heart’ – two new songs from his album ‘Walls’. He then followed these tracks into a classic One Direction song ‘Drag Me Down’. Fans from all around the world went crazy about this – nothing beats a One Direction member singing a One Direction song in their solo career (well maybe a reunion would beat this).

Later on in the show, he sent fans into a frenzy when he performed two more hits from his boyband days – ‘Through The Dark’ (arguably an extremely understated song) and ‘Little Black Dress’ – a song that Tomlinson has expressed is one of his favourites and as he has previously said: “And remember if it’s by One Direction and it’s a banger I probably wrote it”.

But of course, he did sing his solo songs. Hits such as ‘Habit’ echoed through the screen of thousands of fan’s laptops, phones and TV screens and you can almost guarantee that they were all screaming along to the iconic lyric “Come so far from princess park.” Louis also poured his heart out in the song ‘Two of Us’ – a song dedicated to his late mother Johannah.

He also performed a brand new song which shocked fans when he released the setlist earlier that day. In ‘Copy of a Copy of a Copy’ Louis sings “You won’t be the first or be the last to bleed, every broken heart as far as I can see is a copy of a copy of a copy” and fans are already demanding it is released as soon as possible. He also sang a cover of ‘Beautiful War’ by Kings of Leon and fans are hoping that it will be available to stream soon.

Fans are going crazy for the new song, Twitter user @Jailboyhamirah said: “Cause of death: Louis Tomlinson singing copy of a copy of a copy.” which just shows the light hearted banter the fandom has and it also shows how excited they truly are.

The rest of the songs performed were just as great as the others, you could hear the excitement and happiness in this voice as you could tell he was just so happy about being back on stage. You could just tell he was in his happy place doing what he does best.

In the final song ‘Kill My Mind’, the screen behind Louis showed some lucky fans singing and dancing along behind him. This was a great idea – it gave fans a chance to perform with their idol and it made it feel even more like an actual concert. It was also a great ending to the livestream and made saying goodbye a little bit easier.

We also need to thank his musicians – if it wasn’t for them the concert wouldn’t have been as good as it was and they were all so incredible. His band is made up of Michael Blackwell on the guitar, Steve Durham on the drums, Matt Dinnadge on bass, Isaac Anderson also on guitar whilst the keys are played by Zac Craner. We also need a moment of appreciation for the brilliant string players that accompanied some songs and of course, the brilliant crew that made all of this possible for us fans.

Like always, Tomlinson’s fans don’t do anything by halves. ‘LOUIS TOMLINSON’, ‘THANK YOU LOUIS’, ‘LITTLE BLACK DRESS’ and #LTLivestream was trending worldwide and when tickets were released, the site crashed almost immediately. This is also the biggest show that Veeps have ever streamed before.

The virtual concert has also raised funds for the touring industry along with four other charities that are close to Louis’ heart – FareShare, Crew Nation, Bluebell Wood Children’s Hospice and Stagehand.

Louis shared a message on the screen after the concert that said: “Thank you to every single person who helped make this livestream possible.

“Without my band, my crew and team, live shows just wouldn’t happen.

“The money raised so far from this show will help some important causes, so a big thank you to everyone for tuning in.

“I can’t wait to see you all on tour soon!

“Stay safe, Louis x”

This concert allowed fans to see Louis performing – he was in his happy place and he was able to give fans a taste of what his future concerts will be like, all being well. It also gave a chance for fans to connect and watch a concert all together – no matter what corner of the world you’re from.

[p-artsypants]

I’ll Handle This (7)

I really just want to say thanks. I love this fandom, and I love this story…just the overwhelming excitement for this fic makes me so so happy. Everything that happens is really just me saying ‘whatever, I want to see this’. Does it make sense? Not always. Is everyone completely in character? Maybe. Am I having a blast? Absolutely! 

Thank you for all the comments and kudos! 

And sorry for the wait. Wedding planning! 

In Which Gabriel is Serenaded

(Ao3 | FF.net)

—

Day three, Adrien awoke on the pillow. He was used to it now, officially. How scary a thought! 

Plagg had laid out his outfit, thankfully so Adrien could approve, or at least warm up to the idea. 

It was one of the shirts that Marinette had Frankensteined together from the pieces they had found. Absolutely gaudy, atrocious, and a pain to look at. Stripes, polka dots, plaid, little patterns of flowers, all saturated as far top right of the Hue/Sat scale as possible. 

It would make his father cry. It would set the media into a frenzy. It was glorious, and that scared Adrien. 

It scared him that he was starting to come around. He was starting to enjoy this reckless abandon. It was cathartic to watch his world shift and change into something more chaotic, and yet somehow pleasant. Organized Chaos. 

Plagg came out of the bathroom, devoid of mohawks or any other bizarre hairstyle he could have done. His hair was just swept to the side, combed, but not gelled, into place. 

The perfect amount of wild. 

“You don’t have to wake up when I do.” Plagg stated. “I’ll just drop you in my pocket.” 

“It’s alright,” Adrien assured, yawning. “I’m used to waking up this early.”

Plagg dressed quickly, and just as he slid into his moccasins, the room glowed red, and heavy bars slammed shut over the windows. 

Both Adrien and Plagg jolted in surprise, Adrien falling into panic.

Plagg just scooped him up, and held him to his chest. “Hey kid, it’s alright. You can phase through things. You can escape if you need too.” 

This helped calm him down slightly, if ever so minutely. Plagg tucked him into his pocket, and confidently walked downstairs. 

Gabriel and Nathalie were waiting for him in the foyer. 

“What's the deal, old man?” Plagg asked, bluntly. “Akuma attack?”

“No,” replied Gabriel, his head held high. “You’re grounded. No school. No friends. Nothing.” 

Plagg scoffed. “I’m under literal house arrest?! Come on! I have a sleepover at Nino’s tonight!”

“Did you ask if you could attend this sleepover?” 

“No. You were going to say no anyways. Better to beg forgiveness then ask permission and all that.”

“Well, that really solidifies my decision to ground you then. You clearly show a clear lack of critical and mature thinking.” 

“Ah, a pompous way of calling me stupid, hmm?”

Gabriel frowned harder, a line forming at the corner of his mouth. “I am not calling you stupid. I just don’t see you making good decisions.” 

“Gabriel, before this, I wasn’t making any decisions. Everything I did was according to your will. How can you be mad at me at being bad at something I have no practice doing?” 

Gabriel’s eye twitched. “First, do not call me by my first name. Second, I have already made up my mind. If I say you’re grounded, then you’re grounded. Deal with it.” 

Oh that was not a good answer. He may have well just said, ‘because I say so.’ 

And Plagg would not stand for it. He wasn’t standing for it anyway, but he’d at least be willing to bargain with Gabriel if he was offering some excuse about safety for his well being or something.

This was just a power trip.

“Fine,” Plagg smiled maliciously. “Lock me in. But you’re locked in with me. And you’re going to hate it.” 

“I don’t have time to entertain you, Adrien, go to your room.” 

As a kwami who spent most days in Adrien’s bag, Plagg consumed a lot of media. A pair of headphones, an external battery, and a phone that connected to the school’s wifi, Plagg had days to binge all the things that Adrien was interested in. 

And some things that Adrien didn’t care about, like historical dramas, documentaries, and recently, musicals. Especially for time periods that he had witnessed and experienced. He wasn’t omnipotent, so seeing what the humans had thought was important during these periods was fascinating.

But I digress.

The point was that Plagg had a song stuck in his head from a musical and the perfect opportunity to use it had just presented itself.

Gabriel had deemed the conversation over and started to walk back to his office.

“Close every door to me,” Plagg sang, in Adrien’s sweet voice.

Gabriel halted, but did not turn around.

“Hide all the world from me.” Plagg took a step towards him, still singing softly. “Bar all the windows and shut out the light.”

Gabriel turned, raising an eyebrow. “If you think serenading me is going to make me change my—“ 

But Plagg cut him off, raising his voice slightly, “Do what you want with me, hate me and laugh at me.”

Gabriel just stared, and listened.

“Darken my daytime and torture my night…” Plagg came closer, singing with feeling, trying to convey, even for an instance, a flicker of the emotions that Adrien had.

“If my life were important I would ask ‘will I live or die?’ but I know the answers lie far from this world.”

This was horrifying to Gabriel, apparently, as he protested. “Of course your life is important! Why do you think I—“

“Close every door to me, keep those I love from me. Children of Israel are never alone.”

“Children of—what? We’re not even Jewish. What are you singing about?”

“For I know I shall find my own peace of mind. For I have been promised a land of my own.”

Confused, Gabriel just scoffed and started back to his office. Plagg stayed hot on his heels.

“Close every door to me, hide all the world from me.”

Even Gabriel saw the irony of slamming the office door in Adrien’s face, so he resisted, and let his son continue to serenade him into his office. 

“Bar all the windows and shut out the light.”

Gabriel stood at his workstation, determined to ignore his son’s weird emotional outburst, and opened his recent project. 

“Just give me a number instead of my name. Forget all about me and let me decay.”

Plagg fought the smile of victory when Gabriel hunched his shoulders. Was that guilt on his face? Perhaps Gabriel wasn’t as shallow as Plagg had thought and lyrics like this would get through to him. 

“I do not matter, I'm only one person. Destroy me completely, then throw me away.”

And Gabriel sat, staring with his wide gray eyes. His full attention on his son. 

“If my life were important I would ask ‘will I live or die?’ But I know the answers lie far from this world.”

Plagg pounded his fists on the workspace, crying out the words with passion, actually making Gabriel jump. 

“Close every door to me! Keep those I love from me!” He leapt up on a coffee table, putting his entire body, his very soul into this performance. “Children of Israel are never alone!”

Gabriel couldn’t move. Why couldn’t he move?

“For we know we shall find our own peace of mind! For we have been promised a land of our own!” He held out that final note, letting it hang in the air, as Gabriel continued to stare, mouth slightly open. 

Truth me told, Plagg was just intending to annoy him to freedom, but had the song choice done more? Did Gabriel finally understand? 

“Well,” Gabriel adjusted his glasses. “That was...certainly something. If I knew you could sing like that, I would have tried to find a use for it. Never mind, I’ll add it to your resume now.” 

No. It seemed that Gabriel was as stubborn and obtuse as ever. 

“Close every door to me,” Plagg began again. 

“No no no,” Gabriel spoke over him. “One performance is more than enough.” 

“Hide all the world from me.” 

“Adrien!” 

“Darken my daytime, and torture my night.” 

Gabriel groaned, and made an effort to ignore Plagg again. A real effort this time, with no eye contact and no facial expression. When that didn’t work, he moved from his workstation and went to grab Adrien. But Plagg evaded him, continuing to sing, with every grasp.

How many times did he cycle through the song? His throat hurt, as every time he reached the climax, he belted out the notes with passion. 

It would be surprising if no one outside could hear him. 

He climbed up on a table. “If my life were important I would ask will I live or die—“ 

“Enough! Shut up! Shut up shut up shut up!” Gabriel shouted. “I can’t take this anymore!” He bolted over to the security control panel, and shut off the lock down. The bars on the windows disappeared. 

“Go...please, just go.” Gabriel said desperately. 

“Cool, thanks dad!” Plagg said cheerfully, skipping out of the room. 

Gabriel collapsed onto his workstation. 

Whatever tricks Adrien had learned, whatever manipulation guru he had visited, he was good. Very very good. It would take a while to get him back under his thumb. And he might need to resort to more drastic measures. 

What was more drastic than putting the house into lockdown? He’d need a little while to contemplate that.

—

Plagg had missed several morning classes thanks to Gabriel’s stunt, but his friends heaved a relaxed sigh when he arrived.  

“Hey hey hey!” He sang, coming in the door. “What’s happening, party people?” 

“Mr. Agreste!” Miss Mendeleev barked. “You better have a good excuse for being tardy!” 

“A great excuse! My dad shut the house down to ground me, and I had to annoy him with Broadway until he opened up. He was a lot more patient than I expected.” 

“Are you serious?” Miss Mendeleev asked. 

“Madam, do you really think that my father, fashion mogul, would allow me to leave the house like this?” He gestured to his mismatched outfit.

“Point taken. You may take your seat.” 

Plagg shot a thumbs up to his friends. 

—

After school, the group of four piled into Nino’s family car and headed over to his house. 

“I’m so excited! My first sleepover!” The excitement was genuine, as this truly was Plagg’s first sleepover. Of course, his whole life had consisted in sleeping in different places that weren’t his home (the Miracle Box) but the concept of going to a friends house to eat food and gossip all night long was novel and exciting. 

“What curfew do you girls have?” Mrs. Lahiffe asked. 

“I have until 11,” beamed Alya. 

“I have to leave at 9,” Marinette pouted. “I have to help my parents in the bakery tomorrow.” 

It was also Ladybug’s solo patrol tonight, Plagg noted to himself. Kind of a saving grace, since Chat certainly wasn’t going to be on it. 

“I’ll be sure to count you both for dinner then!” Mrs. Lahiffe chirped. 

Adrien had been to Nino’s house a handful of times, all under the pretense of working on homework of course. And it wasn’t a house either, it was an apartment, like most residences in Paris. It was warm, not always clean, and the smell of their cat’s litter was just a hint in the air. 

Major Tom was a right good cat. An old gray tabby, who was far too wise for his own good. Plagg had met this family member in person, since the cat was still pretty curious in his age. 

As soon as the group of friends entered the apartment, Major Tom stretched and trotted toward them, toward Plagg, and rubbed against his leg. 

“Hi Tommy,” Plagg smiled, an inside joke passing between them. 

“I swear,” said Nino with defeat. “Major Tom likes you more than anyone else in this house...and you’ve barely met him.” 

Plagg just shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a pussy magnet.” 

“DUDE! My mom is right there!” 

Mrs. Lahiffe was not amused, but the furious giggling from behind him made it all worth it, he supposed.

“Sorry mom, Adrien’s going through a rebellious streak. He doesn’t usually make jokes like that.” 

“Yeah, sorry, Uh...I just couldn’t pass up the opportunity.” 

Mrs. Lahiffe shook her head. “I noticed your outfit was rather...daring. Is that from your father’s new collection?” 

“Nope! This is a Marinette original!” 

Marinette smacked him in the arm. “I told you not to associate me with that abomination!” She turned to Mrs. Lahiffe and quickly clarified, “He designed it and I carried out the deed.” 

“Oh you kids are so funny!” She laughed. “Well, you didn’t come over to entertain me! Go have fun, I’ll get pizza around 6?” 

“Thanks mom!” 

“Thanks Mrs. Lahiffe!” 

On the way to Nino’s room, he asked. “What movie do you guys want to watch tonight?”

Plagg grinned, “Have you ever seen Joseph and the Technicolor Dreamcoat?” 

—

Chapter is kind of short, but I have delayed it long enough, and sleepover shenanigans need their own chapter.

The song Plagg sang was ‘Close Every Door’ from Joseph and the Technicolor Dreamcoat.

[animerunner]

Luz’s Not So Great Luck: I am Not the Monster in Your Story

Fandom: The Owl House

Relationship: Eda Clawthorne & Luz Noceda

Characters: Eda Clawthorne, Luc Noceda, 

Warnings: Implied Verbal and Physical child abuse, heavily implied past medical experimentation

 Summary: One of the first things Eda noticed about Luz was just how many scars she had. The pattern of stitches were hard to miss.

Something doesn't feel right about it but at this point Eda doesn't know enough to articulate what. 

Maybe it was just the number of it. Or maybe it was the uneasy familiarity she felt when catching a glimpse of a scar that nearly mirrored her own.

Which considering what that scar was from...it was concerning to say the least.

Notes: Not much else to say here today. Most questions were addressed in the last chapter posting here.

Ao3 Link Here

If you want to read it on Tumblr fic is under the read more:

One of the first things Eda notices about Luz after the fact she’s human is the scars.

It’s hard to miss. From the first time Eda took off Luz’s shirt to try and get her temperature down. The patchwork of scars scattered over the girl’s body stare back at her.

It unnerves her for some reason. Though she can’t entirely put her finger on why.

Maybe it’s some of the locations?

After all one of the scars would be right above where a bile sac would normally be in a witch. She would know since she has a similar scar on her own chest.

However in a human, Eda’s not entirely sure why there would be a scar there.

Humans didn’t have bile sacs right?

Something to worry about another time. She had bigger concerns on her plate.

                                                    --------------------

The second time Eda thinks about the scars is after Luz first casts magic around her by accident.

Once she’s got Luz calmed down and asleep her mind flashes back to that one scar. Suddenly everything she had thought she had understood about humans is thrown into question.

The magic and the scar makes her wonder, maybe humans do have bile sacs?

But if they did then why had Luz needed surgery there. Most witches and humans she supposed didn’t need surgery for it. So what gave?

Why did Luz have an almost identical scar to her own?

Why did it feel like there was something sinister afoot?

Maybe the healer she’s going to call can answer her questions.                                                    --------------------

The third time Eda is reminded of the strange stitched scars that are over Luz comes when the girl has her first nightmare since arriving on the Isles.

The healer wasn’t able to tell her much on the mystery that is Luz. She had been hapless as Eda was on why Luz had so many scars.

All Eda knows is that there must be some time to the fact Luz can do magic. Though she doesn’t understand it yet.

King’s the one who wakes her up in the middle of the night.

“Luz is having a nightmare I think?”

“You think?” Eda stares at King for a moment. Hoping he just didn’t wake her up at 2 am on a whim.

“She’s not saying anything. Just a lot of miming. But she is sweating a lot and-”

“-she could make herself sick at this rate. Got it.” Eda concludes summoning Owlbert to her side.

The kid had just started getting better. The last thing they needed was for Luz to work herself into such a frenzy that she makes herself sick all over again.

Luz is still in the throws of a nightmare when they reach her room. King’s description had been accurate. The kid was tossing and turning in her sleep but Eda couldn’t hear a sound from her.

Eda frowns before she realizes why. Silencing spell. Well that’s easy enough to fix.  Thankfully she hadn’t used up all her entire yesterday.

What she doesn’t expect is the near scream from Luz when the spell is cancelled. Jumping back slightly in surprise for a moment. She catches a few phrases that make her stomach sink further. Before she moves closer and decides a simple spell to wake up Luz is in order.

It’s probably maybe not the best course of action Eda realizes as she draws the spell circle. But Eda’s more worried what might happen if the nightmare is allowed to continue.

The kid’s fever just finally broke three days ago. She really doesn’t know if the kid can afford to be sick again so soon after.

Luz cuts herself off rather quickly as she rejoins the land of the living. Stares up at Eda who had been holding her, not entirely sure what would happen when she came to, for a moment confused. “Eda?”

“The one and only.”

Luz finally wakes up enough to realize what happened and immediately starts panicking. “Oh my god I am so sorry-”

Eda cuts in as the kids' words get more frantic. “Kid breathe. I’m not mad.” A bit concerned about what Luz might be having a nightmare about to begin with that would leave her in such a state. But not mad.

“But I woke you up.”

“King woke me up actually. He noticed you having a nightmare.” Eda said with a shake of the head. “And even if he hadn’t you don’t need to hide them from me.”

Titan knew she was familiar with having her own fair share of nightmares.

“But people don’t like it when I scream in my dreams and wake them up.” Luz says after a moment. She was supposed to be quiet. If she had to have magic then this was the one good thing she could do.

Or that’s what people liked to say to her a lot anyway.

What the actual hell? Eda wondered for a moment. Who were these people that apparently needed a head smacking? You couldn’t control nightmares.

Luz continued seemingly unaware of the growing horror in Eda. “They don’t like being reminded that things happened to me.”

Eda stares for a moment, mouth slightly agape. She is left again wondering what Luz’s story is. The kid had been dodging questions about it since she had finally become well enough to hold a resemblance of a conversation.

For now though she pushes it aside. Luz didn’t need questions. As much as Eda wanted answers that could wait.

“Well it doesn’t bother me. I know all about horrible nightmares.” Eda admits with a shrug. Titan knows how many she had had herself. “You can scream if you need too and if we need to find another outlet for the nightmares. We can look into it.”

“Still I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.” Luz shut her mouth with a click. Eda realizes she made a mistake a second later. “Kid I just-” Eda breaks off not sure what to say. “I’m not mad. You don’t need to apologize. I don’t know what they’re about but you’re allowed to have nightmares.”

“No I’m not.”

Some part of Eda is growing exasperated. “Yes you are. No matter what other people say you can’t control your dreams. And anyone who thinks otherwise is foolish.”

“Then why does everyone get mad at me when I have them? It’s not like I chose to-” Luz cuts herself off before she finishes the sentence.

Eda raises an eyebrow. “Choose what?”

She’s guessing whatever the end of the sentence is deals with Luz’s nightmare. But the girl just looks away. Refusing to answer her question.

“It just hurts less.” Luz finally just says.

What the actual hell. Willingly muting yourself hurt less? Less than what exactly?

“Well around here you're allowed to let them loose. I know what nightmares are like. I know what trying to bury them is like. Just let them loose okay kiddo?”

Luz looks like she wants to question it but decides finally against it.

Eda knows she’s probably wondering what will happen when she goes back to the human realm. Not that will be an issue for a while. She wasn’t letting Luz out of her sight until she knew exactly how the girl was doing magic. Maybe there was a bit of projection going on. But Eda felt that Luz, whether she would say it or not, needed some guidance.

Guidance that she definitely wouldn’t get back with the humans.

Also there were concerns Eda had just from the fact Luz could do magic at all. And letting the teen back into the human realm without knowing what the story was didn’t sit well with her.

Especially with where some of Luz’s old scars were.                                                    --------------------

Eda finally finds out about the story of the scars by accident.

Any plans of Luz returning to the human realm had long been scrapped by this point. Eda’s not entirely sure what happened that caused her to find Owlbert and the door. But whatever it was she doesn’t feel comfortable letting her out of her sight.

Not when Luz has magic that she can’t seem to always control at least.

Luz still hasn’t talked about how she has magic. Eda does know that humans normally wouldn’t be able to cast. And Luz really doesn’t cast that often. Most often it’s an accident.

“Magic just gives me grief sometimes.”

“So you hate it?” Eda asks, quaking an eyebrow. She certainly wouldn’t have pinned that based on the fact Luz seemed comfortable staying on the Isles.

“‘Hate it’ are probably the wrong words. Magic is pretty. I love it when you do it.” Luz slowly admits. “I just, I’ve always been able to do this and no one can tell me why.”

“No one?”

Luz shakes her head. “I accidentally cast my first light spell when I was seven. It’s just been a long downhill mess since.” Her voice cracks. “Everyone looks at me like I’m a freak. And I know it has something to deal with the fact I don’t remember anything before I was six. But I can’t figure out what.”

Woah wait what?

Eda stares at Luz for a moment not sure if she heard right. “You don’t remember anything from when you were five?”

Luz shakes her head. “I know something happened. But everything’s sealed. No one can tell me. No one’s willing to tell me.”

Eda stares at Luz for a moment. A nastier theory starting to form in the back of her mind. She really doesn’t like the possible implications that are lining up here. “Alright, why don’t you tell me what you do know and let's see if we can’t maybe figure something out to help.”

The kid probably knew more than she realized. However, it was obvious that no one had tried to help her before now.                                                    --------------------

Eda is right. Luz does remember a bit more then she realizes about her younger  childhood years.

It would be more accurate to say Luz doesn’t remember enough to make things make sense. Then it does to say Luz doesn’t remember anything at all of those years.

Though Eda gets the impression she would rather just not remember at all.

Luz does know snippets. Mainly thanks to her nightmares. Men in lab coats. Needles and words she never understood.

There’s more there. Luz occasionally cuts herself off from saying something. However, Eda doesn’t push for more. Obviously whatever Luz can remember is hard on her.

Eda only ever asks one question. “Can you tell me how you got some of your scars?”

Luz hesitates for a moment. "You don't have to answer that if you don't want to kid. I was just wondering."

“The thing is like everything else I don’t really remember how I got them.” Luz finally admits after a second. “I know they’re from back then. But other than that…”

“Nothing else?”

Luz nods.  

Maybe that’s a blessing Eda reasons. If these ‘people’ (if you could even call them that) were willing to do all sorts of experiments on young children. Then however Luz got her pattern of stitched scars was not a pleasant one.

“Why did you want to know anyway?”

“Curiosity mainly.” Eda says with a shrug. “I have a similar scar to one of yours on your chest.”

Luz’s scar was smaller all things considered. Which made sense considering this happened when she was a small child. But the location was not that far from her own scar.

She thought Luz would just accept the answer. Instead Luz seems to grow more curious. “Why do you have a scar there?”

There’s a beat for a moment and Luz realizes she may have asked too personal of a question. “Sorry-”

Eda holds a hand up effectively cutting her off. “It’s fine. I should have expected that question, all things considered.”

Of course Luz would wonder why she has an identical scar.

Eda sighs debating for a moment. On one hand telling Luz makes sense. On the other she’s worried what telling the kid about the nastier side of magic is like might do to a witch who is just starting to accept her magic.

Though really she supposes it's only a matter of time before Luz finds out the truth anyway.

“When I was younger, someone cursed me. The why and who to it really doesn’t matter now. Point is it was using my magic and my bile sac against me. So I was given two options. One was to hope to find an elixir and hope in the meantime it didn’t cause too much damage. Or two, since the curse was mainly centered around my bile sac still. Have it removed and have an artificial one put in place thus eliminating the curse entirely.”

“You went with option two.” Luz realizes eyes widening putting the puzzle pieces together.

“Yep.” Eda confirms with a nod. “Bitch of a surgery and I still have to take medicine just like you do. But it's better than the alternative.”

It was better than possibly dying.

“Anyways my scar from back then is pretty dang close to yours.” Eda finishes knowing the question that’s on the tip of Luz’s tongue.

“Oh.” Luz says quietly. “But I don’t have a bile sac.”

Yeah that much was obvious. They would have found it within Luz’s first week. Hard to miss on a medical scan.

“True but I’m guessing in whatever they did to give you magic. Some haphazard attempt at giving you a bile sac like a witch would have happened at some point.”

Oh.

“They were trying to make humans into witches.” Luz realizes what Eda has already figured out.

“Seems like it.”

“But why?”

“That’s the million snail question.”

What did humans want with magic?

Better yet how had they even found out they existed?

If they knew about bile sacs. That suggests that they knew how witch anatomy worked. Or at least enough to know that they needed them to do magic. Which raised a whole other set of questions.

Eda needed to talk to Lilith. Because she really didn’t like where the implications of this might be pointing towards.

“Would finding out why you can do magic help with your unease?” Eda says trying to push the disturbing thoughts out of her mind. And circling back to why they had started talking about this to being with.

Luz frowns for a moment. “Maybe. It could just make things worse.”

Eda hums at that thought. She hadn’t really considered that. “True. But it could also help with your health issues. If we know what was actually done to you.”

“You really want to look into it don’t you?”

“Only if you're comfortable with me doing it.”

It’s a sensitive topic Eda can tell that much.

Luz still hesitates. “I just don’t want you to think of me as differently afterward.” She finally had somewhere it didn’t feel like she was a monster. Somewhere that felt like home. What if-

Luz is surprised when Eda pulls her into a tight hug. Squeezing her tight for a moment. Her tone’s surprisingly soft and gentle when she speaks. “You're not a monster kid. And whatever happened to you, me knowing isn’t going to change my view on that. I just want to help, please just let me help.”

Luz's voice chokes for a second, she feels the start of tears, as she tries to talk again only getting a couple of words out. “But I-”

“Hey no buts.” Eda says. “The only monsters are those freaks that did the experiments okay?”

The fact Luz doesn’t say okay back immediately is telling. However Eda supposes it will take time. She only knows pieces of the story but obviously doing magic had a negative impact.

Convincing Luz to embrace her magic and that she wasn’t the monster in the closet in her own story is going to take time. But Eda is sure that with enough time she can do it.

Something in Luz breaks at that and the tears start cascading fully then.

“Kid?” Eda asks now, more worried than before.

Between a few hiccups and the tears Luz manages to get out. “No one’s really ever said that before.”

Part of Eda feels like her heart’s breaking all over again for Luz. Though this time it's out of a sense of familiarity as much as having known Luz went through that. No kid should ever have to think that. She knows that pain all too well herself. And the grief it causes. She doesn’t hesitate a moment to pull her kid back into a tight hug.

For a few minutes neither of them said anything. Eda doesn’t let Luz go when she speaks again there is a sadness to it with an undertone of fury.

“I’m so sorry kiddo that you went through that. But I promise you you’re not the monster in this story. And you may not realize that now, or tomorrow, but someday you will understand that you're not the monster for something you can’t control and never asked for.”

[bisexualsforprompto]

Jealous Adrien (Damianette) Ficlet

Because I’m weak ;) (Based off my headcanons post)

“Hey Marinette!” Adrien grinned as he walked into Miss Bustier’s room. He turned to greet Alya who usually sat next to Marinette but instead of seeing the redhead he realized in horror that another seating frenzy had happened. Nino and Alya were sitting together and in Alya’s place next to Marinette was a handsomely tanned midnight haired boy with smouldering green eyes.

Adrien wasn’t stupid, he knew through his father that the boy next to Marinette was Damian Wayne hier of Bruce Wayne. He had met him once on occasion.

“Hey Damian.” He greeted. Damian gave him a nod of acknowledgement, “Agreste.”

“You guys know each other?” Marinette squeaked.

“Yep! Our dads-“

“My father his done business with his.” Damian said dismissing Adrien.

“Right.” Adrien laughed sheepishly. “Do you know Damian, Marinette?”

“My parents catered for the Wayne Gala a while back, so we met then!” Marinette beamed.

“Marinette made very adequate company.” Damian continued, fighting a blush on his cheeks. Marinette turned tomato red.

“Uh...Okay then! See ya later Mari, do you know where I’m sitting?” 

“Yeah, in the back, Lila might try to sit next to you but she’s supposed to be next to Nath.”

“O-oh.” Adrien said realizing he would be sitting alone. Marinette smiled apologetically at him. That brought a smile to Adrien’s face, Marinette’s smile was infectious.

He went to sit in the back, he felt content knowing that he’d be able to catch up with Marinette during lunch.

Marinette wasn’t at lunch. According to Alya she was catching up with Damian. But they sat next to each other all class Adrien whined in his head. He wasn’t sure why he was so bothered all he knew was that he wanted to spend time with Marinette.

He spent the following weeks reliving the same thing over and over, he wanted to spend time with Mari, she was with Damian. 

It wasn’t until Nathalie was checking his Chinese work that Adrien remembered that Marinette had always said how she wanted to learn Chinese, he could spend time with her that way!

He had it all planned out in his head, he’d go up to her before class and ask if she wanted to get together after school to work on Chinese, it seemed simple enough but for some reason he was a nervous wreck and every time he felt himself start to sweat on the way to school he heard Plagg stifle a laugh.

When Gorilla pulled up to the school Adrien was ready.

“Hey Mari!” Adrien exclaimed as he ignored an annoyed Damian next to her, “I was wondering if you wanted to work on our Chinese lessons anytime soon.”

“No need,” Damian said, “I speak fluent Chinese and I’ve been helping her.” Marinette blushed.

“Thanks again Dames.” Adrien swore he saw Damian bite back a smile and hide a blush. “Don’t mention it.” He grumbled. Marinette giggled which caused Damian to frown.

“What?” He asked.

“N-Nothing.” Marinette Said choking back a laugh. Adrien sighed and walked to the back of the class, it was like he wasn’t even there.

The more it went on the more Adrien started to dislike Damian. He had no idea why, his good friend got a new friend, it shouldn’t have bothered him, but bother him it did.

“Hey Alya,” Adrien groaned.

“Hey Adrien, what’s up?” 

“Well I had some questions…” Adrien said, “Uh- about Marinette...and Damian.”

“Oh...Well shoot!” Alya said nervously.

“So...Do you- well- I was wondering,” Adrien sighed and then blurted, “Why is she only spending time with Damian and no one else?!?!”

Alya laughed. “Somebody’s jealous.” Adrien started to protest but Alya cut him off. “Well here’s the scoop: Marinette and Damian have been hanging out a lot and I know for a fact that Marinette likes him- as in a crush- and she might ask him if he feels the same way. I bet they’ll be a couple by the end of the week.”

“O-oh.” Adrien was taken aback.

“Why so glum? Aren’t you happy for Marinette?” Alya said in a baiting tone.

“O-of course. Well, thanks Alya, bye.” He said hanging up.

“That poor boy really is oblivious.” Alya said to herself as she got ready to help Marinette ask Damian out.

“Plagg,” Adrien sighed flopping onto his bed, “What's the deal with Damian? I know I don’t like him, but I don’t know why.”

“Well kid I think the answer’s kind of obvious.” Plagg said as he shoved a piece of Camembert in his mouth. He swallowed and then continued, “You have a crush.”

Adrien wrinkled his nose, “I don’t think I love Damian-“

“Not on him kid,” Plagg said exasperated, “On the baker girl.” Adrien cocked his head, “Marinette’s just a friend. Besides, I only have eyes for Ladybug.”

“Uh huh, sure. Keep telling yourself that.” Plagg said rolling his eyes, “Isn’t it time to patrol with your Lady?” 

“Oh yeah I guess it is.” Adrien said, still lost in thought, “Plagg, claws out!”

He landed on a rooftop with great precision as he saw Ladybug come into view. “Hey Ladybug.” Adrien said, “Everything’s in order with my side.” 

Ladybug nodded, “Mine too. I have to get going soon, but-“

“Wait!” Chat Noir said running towards her, “Can we talk really quick? It’s important.” 

Worry flashed across Ladybug’s eyes, “Sure what is it?” She asked as she sat down on the roof motioning for Chat to do the same.

He took the invitation. “Well there’s this girl...and well lately she’s been spending a lot time with this guy. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy that she has a me friend but I miss my friend. She’s always busy with him now.” Ladybug nodded. “The guy she hangs around...well I don’t like him, but I don’t know why I don’t like him. I just feel like he’s hogging her, you know? And one of my friends said they might start dating...” He huffed.

Ladybug burst out laughing. “Hey!” Adrien exclaimed.

“Sorry,” she said as she stopped her laughter, “It’s just, it’s obvious you have a crush on her. Come on: you don’t like the guy she’s spending time with, and you want to spend more time with her, even the way you talk about her makes you seem like you like her.”

“That’s what my kwami said.” Chat Noir chuckled.

“Well they are tiny gods, maybe you should’ve listened to Plagg.” Ladybug said.

“But Mar- she’s just a friend.” 

“Why is she just a friend?” Ladybug asked.

“Well- I-“ Chat Noir scratched the back of his neck.

“Looks like you have things to figure out Chat Noir,” Ladybug laughed as she yo-yoed away.

“Maybe I do…” Adrien said as he watched the red clad superhero retreat.

Chat Noir was deep in thought as he bounded across the rooftops of Paris. Could he really have a crush on Marinette? He entertained the thought.

What did he like about Marinette? Marinette...whose smile could light up a room, whose eyes crinkled when she laughed, whose face got so adorably red, who was so beautiful ...and he had a crush on Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

Adrien sighed as he leapt across Paris, he realized he had subconsciously drifted towards the Dupain-Cheng bakery.

Well...maybe that was good. Maybe he could ask Marinette as Chat what the deal was with Damian. Alya had said Marinette liked him, but maybe Damian didn’t feel the same.

Adrien sighed, it wasn’t likely, Marinette was so pretty and smart and awesome, any guy would’ve been lucky to have her. 

Adrien felt a twinge of jealousy rising in his stomach as he scampered towards Marinette’s balcony.

He heard her before he saw her.

The adorable laugh that sounded like musical notes.

“Just teasing Princess.” Said a fairly tall black haired man with blue eyes.

Adrien felt another stab of jealousy at the man who’d called her “princess”, not only was he being replaced in Marinette’s life as Adrien, but also as Chat Noir too.

“But you probably will be our little sister soon.” Said a taller man to Marinette as he ruffled her hair. “If Little D finally gets some courage.” 

Marinette blushed.

Adrien recognized them finally, the other Wayne boys, Jason and Richard, standing next to them was Timothy and Damian, who looked like he was about to commit a murder.

“Yeah, when are you gonna ask Princess out?” Jason teased at Damian. Adrien felt another pang of jealousy.

Damian grumbled out a response but Chat didn’t hear it, he was already running back home.

The next day he started fresh. 

It might be my last chance Adrien thought bitterly as he carried flowers with shaky hands into DuPont.

He scanned the school for Marinette, his eyes finally locked on her and his feet moved on their own accord.

With every step he felt more unsure.

Then he remembered what Kagami has said to him once,

“I’m going to tell you the same thing I told Marinette,” she had said right before they broke up, “Your hesitation is what’s causing these problems. When you finally figure out what you want, it might be too late, I never hesitate.”

Adrien breathed in and out as he walked closer, no hesitation. His breathing became shaky as he finally walked closer to Marinette.

She was a vision. She was wearing a dress that was an homage to the American superhero Robin, and she was giggling beautifully again.

Adrien felt his heart sink.

Next to her was Damian. He leaned in to her.

No, Adrien pleaded silently as he walked faster.

He whispered something in her ear.

Oh kwami, no

Then he leaned in more, and kissed her.

Everything happened in slow motion.

Adrien clutched his flowers tightly and felt tears start to fall.

He felt so much despair.

“I’m sorry Plagg.” He whispered softly as he let his ring fall to the ground and welcomed a black butterfly into his flowers.

“Brise-coeur, I am Hawkmoth.”

@northernbluetongue

@queen-of-the-trash-planet-tm

@luciferge

@legendaryneckjudgestudent

@interobanginyourmom

@beaversuenightly

@worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry

@mochinek0

@shamefullove

@emjrabbitwolf

@actual-disaster-human

@littleredrobinhoodlum

@elijahcoser

@daminett4life

@18-fandoms-unite-08

@kawaiigiantjudgefish

@myazael

@kass-is-weird

@dramatic-squirrel

[bookshelf-imagines]

Chasing Light | Part II

Pairing/Fandom: Lumity/ToH

Summary: Things are...spicing up.

Warnings: ABUSE, BLOOD, VIOLENCE AND A LOT OF IT

Notes: Strophium - Cloth wrapped around the breasts (bra) Palla - Female Roman equivalent of a toga; best to look it up for a picture. Don’t really know how to describe it beside “scarf” but it’s not:( PART I || PART III || PART IV || PART V || PART VI || PART VII

Odalia’s iron grip tightened around Amity’s hair and wrists with each struggle, causing the captive to cease her rebellious actions and comply with the older woman. Besides, she broke the rules. For that, one must pay.

Amity was dragged back in the direction of the dreaded manor, only to be thrown into a shed that sits off to the side. It was unkempt, dirty. The cement floor was stained a dark crimson and the walls were cracked from the harsh sunlight. The brown-haired girl knew the room too well, for on occasions where her mistress was angry, she would be pulled there and beaten until miles past exhaustion. She had learned to not fight it - there was no point.

Her knees slammed against the rough stone as she was shoved to the ground, scraping the skin off her hands in an attempt to catch herself in the process. Odalia took her time. One by one, causing her ‘daughter’ to anxiously wait for what was to come.

A candle was lit. The shadow behind Amity grew as she covered the back of her head and curled into a ball. She couldn’t fight it, she would never win.

A whip bounced off of the dry walls, sending a shiver through their brittle bones. They could only watch the poor girl suffer, even after all these years.

Amity flinched, sucking in a sharp breath. The first was easy, the rest would be easy as well.

Wrong.

Another crack broke the air and stripped straight through Amity’s tunic and strophium, licking her bare flesh.

A weak whimper escaped her lips. Odalia cackled and drew back once more.

CRACKLE!

The scourge painfully sliced through the thin flesh on Amity’s back, feasting upon the red that dripped from the wounds left in its wake. The sharp edges dragged back and forth, digging deeper with each thrash and pullback.

Odalia continued the beating until there was barely a shirt left on Amity’s back, completely shredding it and everything else in its path. The latter lay limp on the floor, silently sobbing.

Her back stung like the sting of a thousand scorpions. She was in unbelievable pain, unable to move a single muscle in fear of the rest of her body shutting down permanently. The torn flesh screamed in agony as the air clung to it like a wet washcloth, making her shudder.

Amity stayed rooted to the stony deck as Odalia triumphantly smirked and threw the scourge back in the corner before making her exit. A vile woman, that one, if one should choose to even address her as human.

It was many minutes before any of the other slaves poked their heads inside as they usually did. Granted, the first few beatings they did not help her since she was a Blight, but after they witnessed the inflictions, they eventually opened their arms for her. They did not interact with her outside of the shed, but they would sate her wounds until she could continue working.

So, they did what they do best. They got to work.

~~~~~~~~~~ One week later ~~~~~~~~~~

“It’s not like she’ll actually see you. Just walk by.” Luz mumbled, pacing back and forth. “Smoothly. Walk by smoothly. You can do that. You’ve slain a cyclops. You can stroll by a house.”

The legionnaire had been on patrol for the last three hours checking the perimeter of the town and establishments within five miles of said town. Well...for the last ten minutes she had been tracing and retracing the same eight steps barely outside the view of the Blight Manor.

Luz never would have thought she would have this much difficulty simply passing a house. Even if the house wasn't what she was afraid of seeing, her mind was screaming at her to woman up and continue her patrol.

Without warning, a crash not far away caught Luz’s ear. She poked her head around the corner and saw a carriage with a figure behind it, seemingly loading it. Apparently, however, the figure dropped something, so Luz being the curious soul that she is went to investigate, unknowingly gravitating toward the building she had been avoiding.

“Stupid,” Luz heard a thud follow the word, “Worthless,” another thud, “slave!”

Upon hearing the last word, Luz quickened her movements and fully came into view of the two figures. What she saw sent her into a frenzy.

Amity was curled into a half-ball on the dry road whilst Odalia kicked her again and again. On top of that, a dark crimson could be seen seeping through the back of Amity’s shirt - and it looked like streaks.

Luz immediately went into fight mode and pulled Odalia off of Amity, throwing her to the ground in the process.

“Stay down.” Luz warned.

“She’s my slave-”

Luz unsheathed her sword, pointing it directly at the woman’s throat.

“I said stay down.”

Odalia seemed to stay down at that point, allowing Luz to sheath her sword and turn back around to the injured girl that was struggling to get up. Luz crouched and hovered by Amity, mentally figuring out how to go about the situation.

“Amity.”

“I don’t need your help.” Amity grunted, grabbing on to the side of the carriage but ultimately slipping and hissing in pain.

“Put your arm around my neck.”

“I said I don’t need your help-”

“I’m not asking.” Luz affirmed.

Amity looked back and saw the intense and, not to mention, serious, gaze of the centurion. Her back was screaming due to one of the wounds opening back up when she dropped the box, but she didn’t want to look weak. If she looked weak, she would be punished.

Reluctantly but surely, Amity slung her right arm over Luz’s neck and the latter carefully scooped her into her arms. The arm under Amity’s legs supported most of the weight in fear of causing her back to bleed more.

“You can’t take her. She’s not yours!” Odalia howled, dusting off her tunic.

Luz continued toward the hill, patrol and Odalia long forgotten.

“She’ll...find you, you know.” Amity dazedly mumbled, subconsciously tightening her arms around Luz and burying her head in the woman’s neck.

“Let her find me. It’s you that I’m not letting her near.”

At that moment, Amity’s heart did a backflip. No, two backflips. Was this the feeling of being cared for? Cared about? She didn’t quite know, and she didn’t want to question it either. If she did, it would slip away. Gods, she didn’t want it to slip away, no matter how foreign it was to her.

They continued up the hill until they reached the town, briskly but not enough to irritate Amity’s wounds further. Swerving before they arrived at the gates, Luz traveled around the wall until they were on the eastern side and then entered the town. She went to the first house on the left, seeing her friend outside.

“Willow!” Luz shouted, “I need your help.”

Willow gasped and ran over, “What happened?”

“I’m not sure.” Luz continued, “I need uva ursi and plantain.”

The nature-lover took a second glance at the body her friend was carrying but did not say anything related to them.

“Right.”

With Amity completely passed out from blood loss and no doubt exhaustion, Luz gently laid her on her stomach and ripped open the back of her tunic and carefully peeled off the vermillion-soaked strophium.

What she saw next caused her to choke back a sob.

From shoulder to shoulder, from the neck down, from top to bottom. All that was there were scars and a lot of blood. Lash marks in x-shapes, divits in the tissue, countless short scratches. It was practically a murder scene.

Shaking herself from shock, Luz grabbed a cloth. As she did so, Willow entered the room with the three plants in hand and a bucket of water. The cloth was dipped into the water, wrung, and sluggishly placed on the re-opened wounds, turning from white to red within a second. Every few dabs, the uva ursi would be applied, aiding the effort in discontinuing the bleeding.

After replacing most of the clear liquid with scarlet ichor, Luz got to work with the plantain - one of the weeds to heal wounds. She took the reeds and placed them accordingly, then wrapped them so they would stay.

When she was satisfied with her tasks, she moved Amity to a cot in another room and draped a blanket over her. The latter was still unconscious but seemed to have a more tranquil than agonized expression. Luz soundlessly exited and latched the door, coming face to face with her friend.

“Is she okay?” Willow worriedly inquired.

“She will be.”

“Thank goodness.”

“Wait. Do you...know her?”

“It’s-it’s complicated.”

“Willow.” Luz put a hand on the other girl’s shoulder, “I might be able to help her if you know something.”

Willow paused and contemplated the thought for a moment before sighing.

“Amity Blight. We...we were friends as children-”

“Blight?” Luz blurted.

“Well, yes-”

“Amity Blight.”

“That’s...what I said, yes.”

“I’m sorry, Willow, but I think there’s something I need to take care of. I’ll be back.”

“But, Luz-”

Before Willow could finish, Luz had already sped out the door and outside the gates, winging her way back over to the southern wall.

With each step, Luz’s stance became more intimidating. Her shoulders broadened, her anger visibly flared, and her strides elongated.

She was infuriated.

Odalia had just dismissed a few slaves and was, unfortunately for her, still outside the main house.

Every footfall caused Luz to clench her fists tighter. The sight of the woman sent pure fire through her body, fueling her actions.

“She’s your daughter!” Luz yelled, coming up to the Blight household. The slaves stopped and leered.

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking abo-” Odalia was cut short.

Luz grabbed Odalia’s palla and threw her against the wall, securing her by pressing against her shoulders with her left arm.

“You heard me.” Luz growled. “She’s your daughter. Amity is your daughter.”

Odalia sneered. “That abomination is not my daughter.”

“You’ve been passing her off as a slave for Gods know how long. Why?”

“I said,” Odalia spat, “That thing is not my daughter.”

Luz attempted to strike back, but was surprised by Alador opening the front door with a solemn guise present on his face. He looked at the legionnaire.

“She’s not worth your time.” He sighed, “Trust me, I would know.”

“Amity’s your daughter.”

Alador cast his gaze to the ground before resuming eye contact. His demeanor exuded fatigue, as if he had lied for far too long. His lips drooped then formed a line when he replied, a slight nod in his movements.

“She is.”

“Alador-”

“Not now, ‘Dalia.”

Luz’s force subsided, allowing the woman to slip from her clutches. However, said woman seemed as if she was about to burst. The centurion stood tall, clenching her fists once again and lifting her chin.

“Tell me everything.”

[klbwriting]

Unexpected Allies - Chapter 11

Fandom: Six of Crows

Pairing: Kaz/female!Reader

Summary: Kaz has a rollercoaster of emotions kind of day

Notes: this chapter moves at a quick pace because it is mostly filler to get from one point to another, enjoy Kaz getting verbally trounced by Inej

Taglist: @mcntsee​ @amwitherspoon​

              Over the next few days Y/N kept her distance from the Dregs, even Kaz, during the day.  In the night she still snuck into his tent to sleep next to him but in the daytime, they couldn’t stand each other.  This confused the Dregs, except for Jesper, who had a pretty good idea what had happened, and he couldn’t stop himself from confronting Kaz about it.  

              “Are you crazy?” he asked Kaz after they finished up planning the job, they were taking up this weekend.  “No one has seen Rollins and suddenly you and Y/N aren’t speaking?  This insane plan is going to blow up in your faces.”  Kaz glared at him, not liking his tone.  Jesper took a step back at the look on his boss’s face.

              “Are you quite finished?” Kaz snarled.  Jesper nodded.  “You have no idea why I wanted Rollins dead and you never will, so stay out of this.” Kaz walked away irritated.  He was always irritated now, he wanted to find Y/N and be around someone who understood him, but she was in yet another meeting about the Darkling so instead Kaz just found a quiet spot to sit for a while.  He was less than pleased when Inej found him.  Apparently Jesper was sending in backup.

              “You killed Rollins,” she said simply.  Kaz didn’t answer, just waiting for her to get to the point.  “This is bad Kaz, if anyone finds the body or finds out who did it…”  She was cut off by yelling by the gate.  Someone had found the body.  They walked over and saw the charred remains being carried in on a wooden plank.  The Dime Lions were yelling for the Grisha bitch who burned him.  Kaz gripped his cane and caught the look Inej sent him.  

              “So you’re going to let her take the fall for this?” she asked.  

              “It was her idea,” Kaz muttered.  Inej shook her head sadly.

              “Kaz Brekker, always the one with the plans to get what he wants, never afraid to sacrifice for it, not even if he has to sacrifice the woman he loves.  Actually, no Kaz, you’re not capable of love, not really,” she said, walking away from him. Kaz stood frozen.  Was that really it?  He did allow Y/N to take the fall for this, he didn’t argue, he just did whatever was needed to kill Rollins and get his revenge.  He didn’t think of what might happen to Y/N in the aftermath. Would she be put on trial?  Imprisoned?  Executed? Maybe Inej was right, maybe he was incapable of love and only saw Y/N as another asset to be used how he saw fit. He looked around a little frantic now, hoping to see her, needing to see her.  Kaz started walking to where the meeting tent was, needing to make sure she was alright.

                Y/N had been in the middle of explaining a fortress that was located a few miles south of Os Alta when several of the Dime Lions stormed in, demanding her head.  I guess they found the body, she thought as she stood.  The rest of the group at the table started asking questions and Mal looked at her.

              “Did you really kill this man?” he asked, looking dubious about the accusations.  She nodded. “Why?”   Y/N took a deep breath.

              “He was a bad man, tried to hurt me, where do you think I got this shiner from?” she asked, pointing to the fading black eye and cut on her face.  “I wasn’t going to be abused by another man again after dealing with the Darkling.  I got carried away and I killed him.”  She could tell Mal didn’t believe her, he thought he knew her, but the truth was even if Kaz had backed down and left Rollins alive she probably would have killed him eventually.  He had the same eyes as the Darkling and she wanted to erase them from existence.  

              “We want her dead!” shouted Rollins second in command, Harv.  Mal held up his hands.

              “We will do this the proper way, she will stand trial for her crime.  We will see if the killing was justified,” he said loudly, calming the crowd.  The Lions didn’t like it but there were too many Grisha around that would protect one of their own for them to deal with so they agreed.  “Take her to a cell.”  

              The cells were glorified cages stuck under a canvas to protect them from rain.   Y/N sat on the small stool inside it, using her power to give her a fire to keep warm. She knew this might happen if she took the fall for Kaz’s kill, but she was willing to do it.  They wouldn’t keep her here.  Others were already coming forward and telling about how Rollins had been abusing his power, pillaging his way through the resistance, taking what he wanted or beating anyone who disagreed with him.  She would get off and be out of here within a week.  The risk was completely worth the reward.  Which is why it surprised her when Kaz showed up looking so dishelved on her second day in the cage.  

              “What’s wrong?” she asked as he sat on a seat on the other side of the bars.  He looked sick and a little frantic.  “What happened?”

              “I…I’m never going to love you the way you love me,” he said finally.   Y/N’s mouth fell open.  She couldn’t believe he was saying this.  

              “Kaz, I already told you, I don’t need you to touch me…what is this about?” she asked.  He looked at the ground and not at her.  Something was wrong, this wasn’t Kaz, this was something else.  Someone had said something to him.  “I know you can’t say it, I know that our relationship won’t be like anyone else’s and that’s alright, I’m fine with that.”

              “No!” Kaz said finally, standing.  “You did what I wanted and now you’re here.  I’m willing to do anything to get what I want and no one is safe from me.  You weren’t special, you were just easily fooled.”   Y/N shook her head again, the betrayal sinking into her chest.  She knew this wasn’t right, something was wrong. He was saying this because he was scared at what he had done, what position he put her in.  She took a breath and looked at him, walking away from her.  

              “You’re lying Kaz Brekker, I know you are!” she called out to him, not caring who heard her.  She saw him stop, tense up, and then keep walking.  

              Kaz hated what had just happened.  He had said everything he could muster to get her to think he was done with her, that he had used her and let her go.  Idiot that he was thought he could trick her like he had everyone else he had ever taken advantage of.  But no, of course she could see through his act, she saw through to his soul and even that couldn’t lie to her.  He stalked towards his tent and in a fury started smashing everything with his cane.  All his frustration and fears coming out in untamed aggression.  He wasn’t sure how long he stayed in this frenzy but by the time he was finished he had nothing left, it was all broken around him.  He didn’t notice the person staying by the open flap watching.  When he looked up and saw Mal he glared.

              “What the hell do you want?” he demanded.  Mal looked at the mess in the tent and shook his head.  

              “Well I guess I want you to stop smashing stuff, its hard to find these days,” he said.  Kaz sat down on Y/N’s bed, the only thing that had been saved from his rage.  He gripped her blanket and pretended she would be sleeping there again that night.  “What I really want Brekker is for you to explain to me what you did to Y/N that made her kill someone like that.  Skinned?  Stabbed multiple times?  Head nearly bashed in?  That’s not how a Grisha works.  That’s how a thug works.”  

              “She was doing me a favor,” Kaz said.  “But I didn’t do anything to make her that way. Playing games for you and your dead girlfriend is what made her that way.  Leaving her with the Darkling for so long, that is what turned her into the type of person who helps a murderer slaughter another.”  He saw Mal’s fists clench and unclench.  He almost wanted Mal to hit him, take out the anger that he didn’t have the strength to take out on himself.  

              “I saw your little stunt at the cell, she didn’t buy it, she knows you were lying,” he said.  “She’s going to be released any second now, too many other stories about Rollins being a heathen came up, we can’t keep someone locked up that did us all a favor.”  Kaz looked at him surprised.  She would be out and he knew she would come looking for him, get him to explain himself. How did he explain that he thought he loved her but would never be sure?  He wasn’t the type of person to value another human, just money, solid cash that he knew would never betray him.  Once again Greed had humbled him, making him see that he couldn’t have everything.  

              “Can I ask you something?” Kaz asked, focusing on the feeling of her blanket on his hand.  Mal nodded.  “I’m sure you’ve heard the stories about me.”  Mal confirmed that he had.  “Can a monster like me care about someone else?”

              “Literally everyone finds at least one person to care about.  Maybe it’s a friend, maybe a child, a parent, a sibling, hell the Darkling did care about Alina in his own messed up way.  So yes Brekker, I think you have found that one person you care about above all else and eventually you will figure out how to show her properly,” Mal said.  “You just need time and practice.”  Kaz was silent, mulling over the words in his head.

              Mal turned to leave when a messenger came running in tent.

              “Sir, the Grisha we released, the Lions took her in a carriage heading south.  Someone heard them talking about dropping her off at Sarkoff’s prison as revenge for her killing Rollins,” she said, saluting.  Mal looked at Kaz who was on his feet and out of the tent in seconds.  If Mal was right he had to prove it, had to show Y/N that he did care about her, but to do that he had to get her back.  Time for a heist.

[omotextual]

Omovember Day 18

Fandom: Welcome To Night Vale

Prompt: In A Container

May I offer you a desperate trans Carlos in these trying times?

This is heavily inspired by that post that's been going around about a character making a mess while desperately trying to use a bottle, and vowing never to do so again. As such, the ending of the first scene is...significantly whumpier than I usually write. It will all be okay in the end, though.

*19??*

Carlos fidgeted in his seat, trying to focus on the experiment in front of him, or science in general, or anything, really, other than how much he wished he were alone right now.

His preferred lab on campus was frequented primarily by undergrads. That meant it was generally relatively empty, often entirely empty by the early evening, most young students not wanting to spend all night poring over science experiments.

Carlos couldn't exactly relate, but it was nice, having the place mostly to himself.

This was midterm week, though, and all bets were off. Which, as an occasional event, was sort of nice in its own regard. There was a sort of exhausted camaraderie in the air, all of them stressed and running more on caffeine than actual brain cells by midweek.

Carlos almost missed the routine of exams. He'd always been good at test-taking, and it meant the pressure was spread out over multiple days, multiple, individual steps that could be accomplished and forgotten about as he moved on to the next. Instead he had a meeting with his advisor, going over his thesis so far, and he was more stressed about it than he could remember being over any test.

He honestly wasn't sure when the last time he had left the lab was, but he had come to know the rhythm of the frenzy, and, midterms or no, he was usually the only one there much past midnight.

It was already 11:30, and there were only five or six students remaining, facts which Carlos was immensely thankful for. He shifted on his lab stool, trying to ignore the steadily rising pressure in his bladder.

God, he needed to pee. He had already gotten up twice in the last couple hours, intending to do so, but... With no room for anything in his head beyond science and a vague sense of academic panic, he'd somehow managed to get distracted, forgetting why he'd gotten up in the first place until he found himself right back in his seat (the second time clutching a fresh cup of coffee, which it seemed he'd already downed most of, he noticed). And it would seem weird to immediately get up again, right?

Carlos was really beginning to wish he'd opted for a little weirdness then, because now...

He was only managing to keep from clutching himself by pressing his legs tightly together and bouncing ever so slightly on his stool. The moment he stood up, it would be a lost cause. Everyone in the lab would be able to immediately tell how desperate he was. He could have maybe played it off in the earlier bustle, but a grim silence had settled over the place by now, and he really did not relish the concept of breaking it to perform what would surely be a slow waddle across the space to the bathroom, drawing everyone's attention in the process. If he was honest with himself, the idea was straight out of his worst nightmares.

If he was even more honest, it was the best-case scenario for what would happen if he stood up right now. Sudden movements seemed like a very bad idea, and what if --

No, he would just have to wait. Surely the remaining students would clear out soon enough.

His bladder was not on board with this plan, and though he knew it was the only real option, his mind still cast restlessly around for something, anything that could help him, some way that he could piss now.

His eyes landed on an empty beaker, easily within reach on the lab bench. It was a 500ml size, just large enough to possibly hold the contents of his aching bladder, or at least take the edge off.

It wasn't a real option, of course. Even discounting the fact that he would have to get his pants at least partway down in the very open space, there would be no disguising the sound of his piss hitting the glass.

And oh, that was not helpful to think about.

He couldn't stop thinking about it, though. His gaze seemed to shift from the beaker in front of him to the bathroom door, all the way across the room, and back again, no matter how he tried to fix his eyes on the work in front of him.

Carlos bit his lip, glad that no one was in a position to see his face, even if they did happen to look up from their own work. He knew that he needed to wait, but a voice inside his head was pleading that he couldn't wait anymore, and he was sure the struggle showed in his expression.

Finally it was down to him and a pair of girls huddled over their project, talking in quiet voices. One of them kept yawning loudly, and he really hoped that meant they were going to call it a night soon. He had long since given up on not using his hands to help himself -- they were far enough away that he wasn't worried about them seeing, whereas he was extremely worried about what might happen otherwise. He pressed his fingers against himself as hard as he could, occasionally switching hands when he felt like he was in control enough to let go for a moment.

Oh, what if they stayed all night? He really didn't know how much longer he could hold it in -- maybe he should just risk it now, before things got any worse. It didn't seem like they could, but he knew that was wishful thinking.

He bit back a gasp as his bladder spasmed at the mere idea, and no, okay, message received, he could not get up right now.

He had given up any pretense of working on his own project, his mind fully occupied with the task of keeping his piss inside, one tiny portion set aside for trying not to stare at the girls too obviously as he mentally whimpered please leave please leave please leave -- Occasionally he would direct his fidgeting toward the experiment, trying to keep up appearances, but he honestly had no idea what his hands were doing while his mind raced in helpless circles.

Finally the girls began to pack up, and Carlos could only hope they were absorbed enough in their own conversation not to hear his quiet moan of relief.

They moved toward the door, and Carlos could feel his whole body tensing, preparing to make a run for it.

"Oh, hang on a minute," he heard one of them say, "I really gotta pee." Carlos hated her a little bit in that moment, both for being so casually open about the same need he had been trying with all his might to hide for what felt like eons at this point, and for not leaving so that he could attend to that same very pressing need.

The other murmured her agreement and they both moved into the bathroom, and Carlos whined with abandon, shoving both hands into his crotch and rocking helplessly in place. The sound of toilets flushing made him cringe, and he waited, wondering what was taking so long --

Finally they emerged, exiting the lab together, happily chattering between themselves.

The moment the door clicked shut, Carlos was lunging up from his seat -- and dropping immediately back down with a pained gasp as he realized he was officially past his limit. The movement triggered a tiny leak, and he knew he truly couldn't hold it anymore.

He stared again at the beaker, realizing it was his only chance of not pissing himself where he sat. He didn't know how he was going to do this, only that he somehow had to. Desperately, he fumbled one-handed at his waistband, trying to shove his pants off while his other hand clamped down viciously on his trembling muscles. The task felt impossible, dexterity lost in his desperate, squirming haste, and after a solid minute he had made no progress.

He forced himself to take a deep breath and begin again, more calmly. He could do this, he was so close to relief... He whined pitifully as another tiny spurt escaped, his efforts turning frantic again as he began to lose control.

Pee was dribbling into his boxers, uncontrollable little drops that got harder and harder to resist each time, but somehow he managed to wrestle his clothing out of the way. He grabbed frantically for the beaker, his fingertips glancing off the glass, causing it to wobble. "No, nooo," he moaned as it skittered just slightly further away. He could feel a steady stream of piss trickling between his body and the stool, beginning to drip to the floor. He couldn't stop it -- it was all he could do just to keep it to that small leaking stream, rather than the gushing torrent he longed to let out.

He lunged forward, the stool rocking worryingly, and managed to grab the beaker. The moment he shoved it between his legs, a large spurt of piss shot out, so hard that it hit the bottom of the container and splashed back up against him.

Carlos moaned at the relief, shaking as the liquid poured from his body. He didn't have long to enjoy it, though, as he realized that the beaker was filling rapidly. For a moment he could only hope that his bladder was nearly empty, because the idea of stopping now was unbearable. He groaned, knowing deep down that was not the case -- he was rapidly approaching the limits of the container, and still pissing as hard as ever. He was going to have to stop, even as that seemed like a physical impossibility.

He felt warm piss lap against him as the beaker filled and then overflowed, sending a small stream down his thigh and oh god, he had to -- stop -- now --

Breathing hard, he pulled the beaker away, a little more piss spilling from it as his hand shook, the sight of which caused yet more leaks to slip past his trembling muscles.

Determined to make it to the bathroom and too desperate to realize it was too late, he was already pissing all over himself, he attempted to run for it. Utterly lacking in coordination, mindless in his need, his legs tangled with the lab stool and he went down, the stool clattering after him, the beaker slipping from his grasp and rolling away, spilling a trail of urine in its wake. Carlos barely felt the pain of hitting the floor, only aware of the unbearable jolt to his bladder. It was more than he could take, and piss began spraying out of him in a hard, unstoppable stream. There was nothing he could do but lay there and sob, quiet, hitching wails spilling out of him as the puddle spread beneath him, warm, shameful wetness soaking into his clothes.

It went on and on, and Carlos cried harder even as he shook with badly-needed relief. When it was finally over, he wanted nothing more than to curl up and die of embarrassment, but instead he picked himself up, grimacing as he was forced to pull his sodden pants back up, and began to clean up his mess, more humiliated than he had ever been in his life.

*Several years later*

"Carlos, sweetheart, it's all right."

But it wasn't. It was very much not all right, because they were caught in a time loop, and Carlos was an idiot who had elected to hold his rather full bladder for what should have been a short drive home from dinner and was turning out to be anything but.

It wasn't that Carlos minded using public restrooms, per se, he just...well, he'd always been fairly private about things like bodily functions, and ever since his accident, sometimes he just got extra squeamish about urination for some reason. It was awkward enough trying to politely excuse himself in the middle of a nice dinner, and then he just started overthinking. What if it turned out the bathroom was out of order? What if he stood up and suddenly couldn't hold it?

It made no sense. He wanted to avoid embarrassing himself again, and his anxiety only served to enhance the opposite effect, and knowing this only made it all the more frustrating.

The first time they passed the same landmarks, he was fascinated, immediately distracted from his prior concerns as he peppered Cecil with questions. He had heard about Night Vale's time loops, of course, but this was his first time experiencing one.

But as their car traveled the same stretch of road again and again, eventually even scientific fascination began to fade under the weight of plain old human need, and there was really only one question remaining on his mind.

"So um...how long do these usually last?"

"Usually a couple hours, but they can go for days on occasion," Cecil replied, sounding almost proud.

"Days?" Carlos echoed, perhaps slightly louder than he'd intended. "What do you do if... I mean, you're telling me we might be stuck like this for..." He could feel his composure slipping at the thought.

"Oh, that hardly ever happens, I haven't heard of a time loop lasting that long in years."

"Oh. That's. That's good," he breathed in relief, before Cecil continued.

"We should be out of here within an hour or two."

"Oh," Carlos said again, voice coming out rather breathy this time. "Okay..." Another hour or two of holding it in did not sound pleasant, but it wasn't as though he had much choice.

He needed to go badly enough to almost consider asking Cecil's advice -- surely he couldn't be the first person to have gotten stuck in this situation. But he couldn't imagine what solution there could possibly be, other than to just... Hold it. And that was becoming increasingly difficult by the moment.

He tried not to shift around too much as they made idle conversation, watching the scenery pass by again and again. It was impossible to gauge how long they had been trapped in the loop, but if the increasingly pressing twinges in his midsection were anything to go by, it had been awhile already -- and if Cecil was correct, it would be awhile yet.

Cecil was barely paying attention to the road -- there was no need to steer, after all, and Carlos hoped he was imagining the weight of his boyfriend's gaze on him as he struggled to participate in the conversation. He ground the heel of his hand against his thigh, wishing that he could at least hold himself, but he couldn't do that in front of Cecil. His fingers tapped against his leg as he fidgeted, trying to ignore the rising pressure.

"Carlos, are you all right?" Cecil was peering at him, clearly concerned, and Carlos flushed as he realized all his attempts at appearing nonchalant were beginning to fail.

"I'm fine, Cecil, I --" A sudden jolt of need went through him, and he couldn't help but wriggle in place. "Ohh I need to pee," he whined. He hadn't meant it as an answer, hadn't meant to say it at all, but --

"I can see that," Cecil replied, voice filled with concern, and perhaps the slightest, gentle amusement. Carlos squirmed with embarrassment as much as need at the knowledge that he had not remotely managed to hide his condition from Cecil. "What I meant was, will you be all right holding it until we get out of here?"

"Is there another option?" he gasped out, one hand finding its way between his legs at last, providing dearly-needed pressure. His face burned -- oh, this was so embarrassing, and he really hadn't meant to do that...but now that he had, he wasn't about to give up that extra bit of help, not even to save face in front of Cecil. It seemed that was a lost cause at this point, anyway.

A small part of his mind was beginning to really panic, though, because -- he hadn't meant to do that. He felt like he was losing control of his body, and what if --

No. He couldn't even consider it.

His question had been mostly rhetorical -- if Cecil had an answer, he very much wanted to hear it, but...

"No, I suppose not," he said, apologetically, exactly as Carlos had expected, though he still cringed a bit, legs squeezed tight and shifting ever so slightly against each other, at hearing the words aloud. They sat in slightly awkward silence for a moment, and then --

"Oh! Carlos!" Cecil suddenly turned and practically vaulted over the seat, rummaging around in the back. Carlos squirmed, crossing his legs as his other hand joined the first, holding on tightly. The sudden noise and motion next to him were doing him no favors.

Eventually Cecil emerged, triumphantly holding a large, wide-mouthed plastic jug. "Remember last time I visited Old Woman Josie, and she sent me home with that homemade lemonade? I've been meaning to return this ever since, but well, you know how it is. I can always tell her I lost it, and... Well, anyway, you can go in here!" he finished brightly, cutting himself off as he realized Carlos had been squirming through his whole explanation, staring wide-eyed at the jug in his hands.

Carlos had, in fact, not heard a word of it, his heart leaping and then immediately sinking the moment he laid eyes on the container. He knew exactly what Cecil was offering, and he wanted to jump at the chance for relief, but -- he knew all too well the difficulty of accomplishing the task at hand, and that was when a person was not in a moving vehicle. Adding in the fact of just how desperate he was becoming at this point -- no, it was a total impossibility.

He shook his head sadly. "It's all right, Cecil, I'll just wait until we get home," he replied, much as he was beginning to seriously doubt his ability to do so. The pressure was really getting unbearable, and he could feel his whole body beginning to tremble with the effort.

More time passed.

It was really starting to hurt.

Carlos heard a small, deeply pathetic sound, and realized it had come from him. He was wriggling constantly in his seat now, unable to keep still. He needed to go so badly he could hardly stand it.

He could hear Cecil speaking to him and could only hope that he wasn't meant to respond. He whined frantically, shoving his hands into his crotch even harder, hating that Cecil had to see this. He knew his boyfriend only wanted to help, but there was nothing he could do.

He felt a reassuring hand squeeze his knee briefly. It helped the tiniest bit, even as he squirmed away, unable to keep still, twisting his legs together even tighter in a frantic and increasingly futile attempt to hold on.

"Carlos, are you sure--"

He could only shake his head frantically, beginning to tear up in embarrassment and panic and pure need. He really didn't think he could hold it much longer, but -- he couldn't --

"There's no need to be shy, Carlos, I won't even look, I promise..."

But it wasn't shyness -- well, it was, but he could have gotten over that, and very happily would have, if it meant relieving his aching bladder.

But he couldn't sit still for even a moment, couldn't let go of himself without completely losing it. There was no way he could get his pants down in time, much less actually position the bottle in the cramped space. The only thing more humiliating than having an accident in Cecil's car would be doing so while desperately scrambling to --

He really wished Cecil would stop offering.

"I know you wanted to wait, but I'm really not seeing an option--"

"That is not. An. Option." He ground out, both insistent and mortified that Cecil seemed aware of exactly how dire his current situation was. There was a moment of slightly hurt silence. "I'm sorry, Ceec, I didn't mean to snap, I just -- I need to go so badly..."

"I know, baby, I just don't understand why you won't -- we could still be here for hours, Carlos." Cecil's voice was gentle, but the reminder still did not help.

"I have to hold it," he gasped, more to himself than anything. "Just -- just have to keep holding it," as though it were that simple. He felt the tiniest trickle of pee leak out, and gave a panicked whine.

"Carlos, please, I can't stand to see you like this." The confusion in Cecil's voice was obvious even through the fog of need. The bottle rested innocently between them. Carlos knew that he was staring at it longingly.

"Please, Cecil, I don't wanna make a mess," he whimpered, knowing that he was moments away from doing exactly that, but logic was beyond him at the moment. "I, I'll leak, I can't, can't do that to you, oh no, oh no no no," he cried softly, feeling more hot droplets spurt out into his boxers, knowing that he was at his limit, he couldn't hold on anymore --

"Carlos, bunny, I'll take care of you," Cecil said quickly. "I'll hold the bottle, I'll do everything, just try, okay?" Carlos stared at him, imploring. "It's okay if a little gets on the seat, baby, I just want you to feel better."

Oh god, Carlos wanted that too, he wanted it so badly. Oh, the idea was so appealing, but there was no way -- He opened his mouth to refuse again, and --

"You really would have to do everything," he gasped out, "I -- I can't--" He tried to gesture to where his hands are squashed between his legs, which was sort of difficult without hands, but Cecil got it.

"I will, baby, I promise, I've got you."

Carlos wavered. Cecil leaned over him, hands hovering, not yet making contact. "Come on baby, I know it hurts, and...you're not going to make it home. Let me help you."

Oh god, Carlos was just so full and he couldn't think and -- if Cecil said it would be all right --

He nodded helplessly, and Cecil's hands descended, beginning to undo the button of his skinny jeans. Carlos whimpered loudly at the added pressure against his aching bladder, trying to fight the impulse to squirm away, to let Cecil work. "I know, baby, I know, these are just so tight..." Carlos nodded, whining, painfully aware of this fact by now. He ground his fingers against himself in a rough circling motion, trying to stave off the waves of desperation just a little longer.

Finally the button was undone, his pants were unzipped, giving him the slightest relief as the external pressure lessened. A moment later, though, Cecil was guiding him to slide one of his hands down his pants. "Hold yourself, baby, hold on just another minute while I get these off, okay?" Carlos complied, sliding his fingers down until they were directly against his pee hole, pressing hard. The pressure was glorious, but it also meant his arm was now resting directly against his bladder.

He honestly had no idea how Cecil gets his tight jeans and boxers down, but he wriggled and squirmed until they were somehow around his thighs, and then--

"Move your hand, baby."

Carlos shook his head frantically, knowing that the moment he did, he was going to start pissing everywhere, uncontrollably.

"I've got you, Carlos, just trust me. Move your hand." That was his dom voice, and Carlos whined helplessly as he obeyed.

A few drops did indeed follow his trembling fingers, and then he felt the wide, solid mouth of the jug pressing firmly against him.

"All right, Carlos, it's all right, you can go now, let go, baby."

He already was, a little bit, trembling droplets spilling into the jug, but -- "Are you sure?"

"Yes, baby, I've got you, it's okay," Cecil soothed.

"I -- I really have to go..."

"I know, it's all right, you can go now."

"No, I mean --" he wriggled, feeling the jug pressing into the sensitive flesh all around his dick. "I mean i have to go a lot. A-are you sure..."

"Shh, it's alright Carlos, I'm sure. I promise you won't overflow. Everything will be all right, baby, just relax and let it out now."

His body convulsed, legs clamping tight around the jug, as a hard spurt of piss shot out, the sound thunderous against the thick plastic.

"That's it, baby, just like that, let go for me Carlos."

Carlos sobbed as he felt himself beginning to let go. The stream was sputtering, faltering, but Cecil kept talking him through it until finally he felt actual release, gasping loudly as liquid streamed from his body into the jug. At some point one of his hands found its way to Cecil's wrist, clinging tightly.

Finally he was blessedly empty, and he slumped back into the seat, still panting helplessly. Cecil waited a few moments, making sure he was finished, before pulling the jug away, passing over some napkins from the seat pocket and courteously looking away as Carlos attempted to put himself back in order.

With the near-panic out of his system, the embarrassment slammed into him full-force, especially as he saw Cecil screwing the lid onto the jug (which, he couldn't help but notice, was perhaps half-full at most, just as Cecil had promised) and placing it beneath the seat to be dealt with later.

The silence stretched for a moment, and then,

"Thank you," Carlos said, feeling deeply awkward but meaning it with every fiber of his being.

"Of course, bunny," Cecil said, as though there were nothing out of the ordinary about what had just happened. Cecil's hand squeezed his knee again, and it took Carlos a moment to weigh the comfort he took from the touch against the overstimulation it caused in his current state, by which point Cecil had already moved his hand away. "Are you all right?"

"Mhm," he mumbled, looking down at his lap, hands fidgeting in embarrassment now. "Sorry."

"It's all right, Carlos. Everything is all right." Cecil's voice was almost radio-deep, something that never failed to calm Carlos down. "You did amazingly well, and you're okay now, it's all okay." Carlos nodded, beginning to believe what Cecil was telling him, knowing he wouldn't say it if it weren't true.

"Why don't you try and get some rest now, love? I'll wake you when we're there." Carlos took it for what it was -- a chance to escape from this situation for a bit, until he felt more prepared to deal with what he had just done.

He was exhausted, and he leaned his head back against the seat, eyes sliding closed. As he began to drift, he found that his thoughts were actually not as scattered as he might have expected. Mostly, as was often the case when he was near Cecil, he just felt...safe, and cared for.

He made a small sound, and Cecil reached for him again, stopping short of actually touching him. Carlos nodded, and Cecil's hand returned to his leg, this time to stay, as they drove through frozen time and, finally, home.

[enna-of-the-stars]

This is Home: Chapter 2

If you missed the first chapter, click here

Fandom: Natsume Yuujinchou Word Count: 5.1k Rating: General Audiences Summary: Natsume Takashi has never really had a place where he could settle down and call home, but that was before the Fujiwaras came along and bundled him away to a little town called Yatsuhara.

A ficlet about Natsume first moving in with the Fujiwaras and learning to break the habits that he's built over the years from constantly terrible relatives. Also, the Natsume Protection Squad develops instantly the moment Natsume walks into class. It just happens. That's it, there's no going back, the class just adopts him and Nishimura will fight anyone and everyone that will hurt Natsume.

CHAPTER TWO: Take Me Home

“Alright, alright, everyone settle down, settle down,” The teacher said. “We have a new transfer student today, so I hope everyone will welcome him.” And with that, the teacher nods at the twig-like figure hovering indiscriminately by the blackboard. Natsume’s hands are wrapped around his midsection, as he releases one to pick up a piece of chalk. His hands are weak and they shake slightly as Natsume slowly and carefully scratches out his name somewhere in the corner of the blackboard, taking up as little space as possible, while still making it readable just in case the teacher gets mad, because previous teachers have. The room is silent, and he can feel the piercing stares of the class honing in on every move he makes. Their stares bore deep holes within him and Natsume can sense the rising anticipation for his name to be released to the throngs of interested and curious students. When he finishes writing, there’s a collective breath as the whole class seems to relax suddenly. The constant frenzy of stares almost, almost disappear and Natsume can breath again.

“Alright, Natsume-kun, why don’t you introduce yourself?” The teacher’s voice cuts into the thick silence without much resistance. Natsume’s voice is just the opposite, slow, both methodical and heavy so that the silence fills where he pushes in every moment he pauses. The broken padlock and the stray fragments of rope have begun to creak. The lock clicks and clicks, it’s close to closing. The rope slithers up and around, reforming as it goes. But neither fully finish resettling.

“My name is Natsume Takashi, nice to meet you.” He deliberately ends it there. No use in continuing if everyone’s already dead set on believing the rumours that always hurry into a room before him. And it’s painfully obvious Natsume’s prediction is right; the moment he ends, the classroom erupts into a buzz and people are eyeing him just like they have always done. They whisper and collude, shifty gazes turning from stares into death threatening glares at the equally shifting Natsume. No matter how many times he goes through this, it still hurts. It hurts to see people like this, people that should have at least tried to welcome him, instantly throwing him aside and believing the rumors instead. It’s dark and full of shadows and the classroom seems dim. They don’t know him and they never will, he’s just that kid that no one wants.

“Well then,” The teacher’s voice once again cuts through the room, slicing the tension in two. “Natsume-kun, why don’t you sit over there, in the empty seat in front of Nishimura-kun.”

“E-eh?!” Nishimura sort of starts, snapping out of his daydreaming; everyone knew he had been napping, not daydreaming. But it’s too late, Nishimura has already over tipped the balance of his chair and yes, it seems gravity had a bone to pick with Nishimura as he flails, arms shooting up and out and waving all around before he falls, hard. The next thing he knows, the room is erupting in laughter at Nishimura, who in turn turns beet red and sputters as he sits up and meekly shuffles back into his seat. Even the teacher snorts, holding back chuckles as the entire class hysterically laughs. Natsume blinks, all the tension in the room is gone and no one seems to be staring anymore, instead they’re all laughing at, no, with Nishimura, who can’t help but sheepishly laugh along with them, mouth apologies, to which the teacher acknowledges whilst in the midst of laughing.

“Alright, alright, everyone back in your seats,” The teacher eventually cuts in, a kind smile already adorning his face. “Natsume-kun, why don’t you head to your desk now that we all know Nishimura-kun is back with us in the realm of the living.”

Hesitantly, Natsume nods and makes his way through the desks; people are still poking fun at Nishimura, so most of the class pays Natsume no mind. In fact, Nishimura’s little fall seems to have dusted away any tension that room had previously, and with the sun peaking through the windows just right, Natsume’s hunched shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. People may not have been the most welcoming, but that was to be expected; it’s obvious that they aren’t exactly cruel, not like before, so Natsume isn’t as afraid this time, less wary, to let a minuscule smile ever so slightly slip out as he makes his way to his new desk.

It’s nice honestly, the day is soft, wisps of air blow gently across the courtyard of the school. The sky is mostly a brilliant sapphire, clouds of pearl providing sporadic shade. The sun is gold, as it always is, shimmering and glittering and filtering its way into the classroom so that every desk is illuminated a golden yellow. The class seems small, but it’s better this way, better than anything the cities had ever been able to offer. The tension that had drifted away didn’t melt back in, and almost every classmate was chattering quietly, just under their breaths. But it wasn’t criticism, it wasn’t gossip, just simple curiosity and it suddenly hits him like a sack of bricks. I was wrong, Natsume thinks. The class hadn’t been like the others, the buzz that Natsume had originally perceived as gossip and scorn was actually just been that same curiosity that echoes now. They had heard the rumors, everyone knows them, but these people weren’t judging him. They were simply analyzing him, what his like were, where he’s been, what he’s actually like. And this, Nishimura kid, the one that sits behind Natsume, he’s no different either. Natsume would later know that Nishimura was not an analytical person in the slightest, at least not when it came to school. But looking down now, just before he sits down, Natsume sees a kind smile from Nishimura, who lifts a hand to wave hello.

“Sorry ‘bout that, I’m Nishimura Satoru by the way.” Nishimura smiles wider at Natsume’s slight nod. Soft spoken, and ever gentle, Natsume replies, forgetting the rope and realizing with surprise that it’s gone far, far away.

“Hello, Nishimura.”

The class is quiet after that, and when the break comes, Natsume silently falls asleep, too tired from the anxiety and fear that comes with moving to a new school, but for some reason feeling safe enough to rest, even if for just a few moments. Everyone notably quiets down when they see Natsume put his head in his arms and onto the desk.

“I-is he sleeping?” Someone whispers.

“I think so?”

“Should we wake him up?”

“Yeah, maybe? Break’s almost over soon.”

“Wait! Wait, wait!” A voice suddenly breaks in. Sasada hastily grabs Nishimura by the

crook of his arm. “You idiot! Natsume-kun is obviously tired! Let’s give him a few more minutes, the bell isn’t going to ring until ten after all.”

By the time the teacher comes strolling back in, everyone is in their respective seats. Natsume is still asleep at his desk, no one wanting to truly awaken him even as the bell signaling the end of break rings. They tried, but to their surprise, Natsume merely stirred slightly, face coming into view of the soon to be noon sun. When Nishimura saw the dark circles under Natsume’s eyes, he refused to let anyone else try to wake Natsume up.

“No, I understand what you’re trying to say, Nishimura, but have to wake him up! Class is about to start soon.” Sasada said.

“Your the one that said to give him some time, and besides, look at him! He’s exhausted. Come on, Sasada, you’re the class rep if you just explain things to the teach, it’ll be fine.” Nishimura retorted.

Sasada huffed and crossed her arms. Truthfully, she didn’t want to wake up the new transfer student either, he did look really tired after all. But at the same time, as class representative, it was her duty to help ensure a good working environment in the room, and with Natsume sleeping like this, it wouldn’t do any good for the work ethic she wanted to instill in her class. Yet, something inside her said screw that. She turned around and stalked out of the classroom to the teacher’s lounge, but not before glaring down Nishimura and sticking her tongue out at him.

“Geez, don’t hafta be so mean.” Nishimura said as he turns back around to sit in his seat. The rest of the class does the same as the late bell starts ringing and Sasada comes back with the teacher. The lecture starts with no discourse, and Natsume is allowed to sleep on as student after student slowly quiets down; something about Natsume makes all of them want to indulge him just a little, even if they have only just met. As the periods come and go, Natsume doesn’t wake up until lunch comes around. He slowly shifts and sits up, rubbing his right eye lightly and squinting at the sudden adjustment to sunlight. Ethereal, his pupils glitter gold and widen briefly before turning to cat like slits, giving rise to such a bright hazel that they look exactly like liquid amber. Students’ conversations sort of drop off, as they watched Natsume blearily rub his eye. Some other student, who Natsume would soon know as his friend Kitamoto, also stopped in his conversation with Nishimura. The two couldn’t help but stare; Natsume was lighting up the whole room with his gentle glow.

Natsume looks around, once again aware of the stares, which hastenly fall away when he looks at them. Self-consciously, Natsume grabs his bag and heads out the door, quickly shutting it behind him and fast walking away from the classroom. He shifts around, unsure of the school layout as other students that had filtered out from their own classrooms for lunch curiously looked at the new transfer.

There were too many eyes, too many people, not enough space. Natsume’s chest tightened as the reeling stares closed in on him and the air sizzled as he felt the burn of a flush threatening and licking fire onto his ears. The quiet voices grew louder and louder, echoing further and higher. There’s a buzz in the air just like before. Natsume can feel the world disappear as the air burns cold then hot then everything is gone and he runs. And he runs, and runs, and runs and runs and runs runs runs runs—

Gasping for breath, Natsume drops to his knees and falls to the wall standing tall to his right. The world is spinning in dizzy, maddeningly warping drifts. Spot are in his vision as they flicker in and out and the rush fills his head, roaring and screaming for him to find safety and there’s nothing but the roar, the gush, the sound and it won’t stop, doesn’t want to stop, can’t stop. Natsume clutches at his chest and desperately heaves a moment too soon as he drops to the ground, hoping somehow, that his lungs would work and the air would work and god why won’t anything work ? And it doesn’t and everything burns brilliant and painful as the world shimmers in and out of existence. The bubbles have come back. It’s foamy and watery and there’s nothing but a waterfall overflowing and drowning. Moments pass, who knows how long; eventually the torrent of water stops and the world comes into focus again, but it’s still incomprehensibly shaky. Everything wobbles and wavers as Natsume struggles to stand, leaning heavily onto the wall, using it as a support.

Slowly, but surely, Natsume shuffles along, one hand maintaining its steadying position against the wall. The sun is still high in the air and the sound of other students laughing and talking still comes around from the corners and falls down from above. At least it’s still lunch... I think… Natsume shakes head in an attempt to force the world to focus, and thankfully, it does—the walls straighten, the ground flattens, and the rustling of the tree leaves finally comes into the forefront—and Natsume plods along. Other students have begun to round the corner and their voices drop at the sight of the transfer student. And god is the silence louder than anything Natsume has ever heard before. It screams and screams. He turns around and gives them a quick once over, before  bolting, hoping, praying, that nothing would tilt and give way when he needed it the most. One corner after the other, gravel after concrete, and eventually Natsume finds the perfect corner. It’s secluded, impossibly drowning in the concrete walls that loom up above. A few trees surround it, providing shade, but most importantly, safety. No one can see Natsume from above. The concrete practically encloses everything in a shell, a protective cocoon that even if someone comes near the corner they would have to really look in order to see anything. It’s a small pothole really, but it’s more than enough for Natsume, he’s hidden in smaller before. This could be considered one of the roomier corners.

Natsume slips off his bag and sets it ever so gently down onto the cold ground. He leans against the wall, closing his eyes, relishing in not silence, but peaceful quiet. There’s no one around, no one to judge, no one to hurt him. He’s safe, protected, gone. Unconsciously, Natsume slides downwards, landing on the ground in a pile of twig limbs. A clink forces him to open his eyes.

Looking down, next to his foot, is the same school bag Natsume’s been using for the past few years. It’s worn, it’s old and most certainly out of style, but it’s stayed with him through all this time. He can’t remember where he got the bag, whether it was a gift or not, but either way it was the only thing he could call anywhere close to home. It was his constant throughout life; this bag was the only thing that he could count on, with its heavy strap digging into his shoulder reassuringly, reminding him it was there even after all the families that had thrown him away, all the people that had called him a liar, a thief, a problem child. This bag, with small embroidery on the tag inside with his name, “Natsume Takashi,'' was the only thing that reassured Natsume. Perhaps it was his mother that had made it all those years, before Natsume had even been born, preparing for him to enter middle school, or perhaps it was his father maybe? He can’t remember, not after everything. The rising panic settles in, can he even remember his father’s face? His mother… who was his mother again? She died before Natsume was old enough to learn her face, her voice. But his father… that voice was the only thing Natsume could remember, and even then it was hazy, barely there. The only thing that remained were the voices of those things that followed Natsume, those people that hurt him, that had him then tossed him away, passed him along to another to suffer with.

The tides return and the waterfall gushes and flows. Natsume gasps for air and clamps both hands over his ears and curls up into a ball; the roar comes back and fills his head drowning out all noise. It’s loud, it’s painful, but it’s everything Natsume’s ever known, and eventually it stops, just like it always had. The world flickers back. Wary, Natsume breathes heavily for a bit, letting the mostly warm summer air filter in and out, warming up his freezing fingers and allowing a warmth to blossom his chest. With shaky hands, he weakly pulls at the strap of the bag lying next to him and opens it. Inside, unbelievably, is a bento Touko had pushed into his hands that morning. It’s wrapped in a colourful cloth decorated in simple white dots on a baby blue background. A bow is neatly tied at the top, holding it all together.

Natsume  unwraps the bento with unsteady hands and is immediately surrounded by a heavenly smell. When he opens it with a soft snap of plastic, the fluffy aromas cascade and envelope Natsume in a gentle hug. Tamagoyaki, rice, leafy greens, and perfectly grilled salmon fill the bento, giving color and vibrancy that reminded Natsume of the welcoming lunch that he, Shigeru, and Touko shared together. Carefully, Natsume uses his chopsticks to separate a small piece off of the salmon and lifts it to his mouth. The moment he bites down, the crisp outer shell of the salmon gives way with a soft crunch, revealing the warm insides of tender meat. The tamagoyaki is soft, sweet and unlike anything that Natsume’s had before. None of his relatives had ever done this, making him breakfast where, Natsume wonders, Is this what love tastes like? Every bite is a treasure trove, perfect in every which way, golden and tender and full of the time and love that Natsume wonders if he was dreaming. What if all of this was just some cruel joke? The Fuijwaras were too nice, nicer than anyone had ever been to Natsume, too much like the dreams of family that he desperately wanted. What if they were just yokai, playing around with a stupid human child naive enough to truly believe what was happening around him. What if the Fujiwaras weren’t huma—

“Stop it.” Natsume growls out to himself. “Stop it. They’re real. Touko-san and Shigeru-san are real! They have to be real.”

A breath, and Natsume closes the bento. Even if the Fujiwara weren’t real, the food at least is and he has to save it. The Fujiwaras are nice now, but… so was Satanoka-san too, in the beginning. He can’t risk it. If there wasn’t any food anymore, the rest of the bento would at least tide him over just long enough so that Natsume could survive. Bits and pieces here and there would be enough. It was enough in the past, it will be now. So carefully, Natsume wraps up the bento, tucking it away safely into his bag. He swings the bag over his head and onto his shoulder, readjusting it like he had always done before, a habit, he realizes. Natsume looks up at the clear sapphire sky, the soft clouds rolling evenly, regularly over the wind’s waves and grabs at the strap of his bag once more as he methodically returns to the classroom, a few wrong turns here and there because the school was too new..

The bell rings as Natsume sits back down at his desk. The class settles as the teacher walks in, a different one this time, one Natsume doesn’t recognize. The lesson starts and Natsume swallows, he’s missed too many days in the past; the black board is full of incomprehensible math and everyone else seems to understand what’s going on. Natsume sets to copying what’s on the board. It’s okay, he thinks, I can figure it out. I have to. That’s when he realizes, all the periods before lunch had disappeared in a flash, and he had been sleeping the whole time, which could only mean one thing, the teacher was mad. They always get mad when he falls asleep in class. Always. So Natsume waits, hunching over, trying to make himself seem as small as possible. The earth could open up beneath him right now, and Natsume would gladly let it. Anything was better than getting yelled at.

But the cruel words never come, instead, the lecture merely continues. Natsume hunches further down, tension released from his shoulders, exhaustion overwhelming him all of a sudden. And it's as if he was Atlas, carrying the world on his shoulders, because Natsume can’t keep his eyes open, let alone sit up in his chair. The world is looming, it’s heavy, overpowering him until there’s nothing but darkness and silence.

“Wait, Kitamoto, lemme wake up Natsume first, before we go.” Nishimura said.

“Who?” Kitamoto replies from just outside the classroom door. He had just peeked into the room to find Nishimura.

“Oh, right, the new transfer student.” Nishimura said, pointing at Natsume’s sleeping figure leaning over the desk top. Kitamoto merely raises an eyebrow. “Just give me a sec, Kitamoto.”

Gently, Nishimura taps Natsume’s shoulder. And like a whirlwind destroying all that’s in its path, Natsume snaps awake in a flurry of motion, instinctively shying away from the hand that woke him up and consequently falling out of his chair. Nishimura falls back too, shocked at the sudden movement. Kitamoto surges forward to catch Nishimura and the two fall against each other, back to chest. Natsume scrambles up, a crazed look in his eyes as he stares first at Nishimura, then Kitamoto. His eyes dart back and forth between the two, chest heaving, gasping for air. A certain urgency flashes through Kitamoto and he wraps an arm around Nishimura’s middle and hauls him out of the classroom, almost carrying the severely protesting boy.

“Wait! Kitamoto what are you doing?!” Nishimura exclaims, kicking all the while being quite literally man handled into leaving the room. “Wait, Acchan! You can’t just—ack!”

With a lurch, Kitamoto practically throws the two of them down the stairs and away; he continues hauling the flailing Nishimura until they’re out of the school and far, far away from Natsume.

Natsume blinks rapidly before sliding down onto the floor, chest stuttering and breath disappearing, some spirit had ripped it from him, Natsume reasoned. Why else would he be so scared? But then again... I can’t believe I thought that Nishimura was a yokai… Natsume thought, before bringing both hands up to rub his eyes. The next time he opens them, the light is dimming and fire burns in the twilight. It’s golden hour, clouds vibrant and molten, sky burning away into black. Something about it sets Natsume off edge, something’s wrong. Hesitantly, Natsume stands back up and grabs his bag, leaving through the front of the school. Something’s wrong, it’s the familiar feeling of stares again and every hair on the back of Natsume’s neck is standing up, and yet the school is empty, too empty. Natsume hurries back to the Fujiwara house, the road stretching far in front of him. The bend in the road is thankfully familiar and it almost settles the uneasy feeling burning in Natsume with the sunset. Until he sees a shadow looming over him. A warm breath breathes down his neck, chilling a terrifyingly close.

“Natsume Reiko! Return my name!”

Natsume whips around and falls to the ground; above him is a horned yokai with no eyes and a mouth from one side of its face to the other. It opens its mouth again.

“Return it!” The yokai screams, a void opening where the mouth is, large and gaping. It lunges forward, hands clawing at Natsume’s arms and legs. Adrenaline snapping, Natsume scrambles backwards before flipping around and bolted as fast as he can away from yokai. He trips and falls, landing on his hand and slamming on to his right knee. The gravel digs into his skin, cutting it open and forcing his blood to flow onto the sturdy fabric covering his knee. The world tilts in confusing ways and Natsume runs, faster and faster until everything is just a blur, invisible to the eye. I can’t! I have to—I have to find a shrine, Natsume’s thoughts run. Shrines had always protected him before, so this time, maybe this time it would work too. So Natsume runs and runs and runs, until the world darkens and there’s nothing but him and the warm breath breathing down his neck every time he turns around.

Into the forest, over the roots and through the leaves, Natsume sees a glimpse of a staircase and staggers towards it. His lungs are burning and eating away at the precious oxygen supply that he has. Each step sends fire up his leg and into his chest, each grab of a tree trunk or root sends lava to his heart. Nothing matters except those stairs, The stairs, have to… stairs. Natsume breaks sharply to the right, the yokai following him. Up and up and up Natsume pounds along the stone stairs until with no breath left in him, he reaches a torii gate. And the moment he passes through, the yokai screams again, but proceeds no further, because it can’t. So Natsume falls to the floor on his back, his own lungs screaming for air, and the world tilting and swirling above him as he watches, strange for the season, perfect pink blossoms dancing on the air as waves crash and break about him. He closes his eyes.

A gentle touch awakens him. Natsume sits up, wincing at the sharp jabs of pain racing from his hand and knee, but then freezes at the sight before him. Lights, golden and shimmering float up and down, dipping with each lull of an invisible wave. The touch that had awoken Natsume was one of those gentle drops of yellow landing on his nose. It flew away the moment he sat up, but it lingered, drifting around Natsume before joining the sea of lights. They surround him, seemingly trying to lead him somewhere, so Natsume follows, mesmerized by the glowing faint warmth of all the lights sailing beside, above, and around him; feeling safer than he’s been before, Natsume understands no urgency. The lights bob up and down, fluttering faster and further every time he gets close enough, leading him on until just at the crest of the hill, an abandoned shrine, long lost to the echoes of time, stands firm despite its age.

The sun is long gone, settling down for the night and the sky is still that dusty black right at the end of twilight. Ink drenched shadows curl over the steps and Natsume takes a seat at the back of the shrine. The little lights flicker and bloom and settle. One moment they glisten and glow along the treetops, lighting up the flower blossoms, casting yellow rim lights; the next moment they twirl and dance downside up from staircase to tree and finally to Natsume, landing peacefully into his palm. Breathtaking and beautiful, the sky darkens into a velvet black and the world refocuses. There’s only the light of the fireflies and the smell of the blossoms. Natsume breathes in, letting his lungs finally, peacefully, take in the air that was robbed from it so long ago. By the time he’s breathed his fill and looks up, the stars have awoken, winking back at Natsume from the far off distance engulfed in space.

And it’s only now, does Natsume finally recognize the meaning of the dark. It’s too late, far too late. He should’ve been back at the Fujiwara house by now, but he’s not and suddenly, the panic settles back into his chest. It grabs at his arms, his chest, clutching tight and forcing the air out of him as it snakes its way around his neck and tightens impossibly. A noose. The world falls again and flickers. In and out. In and out. It’s too cold, too cold. The buzz is back and rings in his ears infinitely loud and obnoxiously drowning drowning drowning—

“Takashi!”

The flood stops and Natsume finds his footing, coming to the surface for the first gulp of air in who knows how long. He gasps and sputters as a figure comes rounding the corner. Natsume whips around and stares at the dark figure, overshadowed by the looming trees. But the lights around him start swirling and suddenly, Shigeru’s face comes into focus, illuminated under the glow of a thousand fireflies. A hand reaches for Natsume, patient and kind, waiting for him.

“There you are, Takashi. You gave us quite a fright you know?” Shigeru said, jokingly, a smile tugging at his lips. “Why don’t we go home before Touko-san cooks a feast for twelve.” He winks.

The water returns, but it’s no longer a waterfall of gushing drowning liquid, instead its softened. The small droplets simply dip low and fall with a quiet pit patter. Shigeru’s eyebrows knit together as he moves forward, gently sitting down next to Takashi. He opens his mouth to speak, but closes it in silence when ever so slightly, Takashi moves closer. Shigeru’s eyes soften and he wraps his arm around the crying boy’s shoulders. They sit in not silence, but quiet. Takashi doesn’t let any tears fall with sound, but the warmth of an arm around his shoulders is enough to let the waterfall flow. And the lights continue to glow; small flickers flash and float.

“Takashi-kun!” Touko exclaims as both Shigeru and Takashi enter the house. Touko still has that apron on when she comes practically running into the genkan to greet the two. “You had me so worried! Thank you, Shigeru-san, for finding Takashi-kun and—Oh my! Takashi-kun, your hand!”

Shigeru frowns and carefully takes a look at Takashi’s hand, and only then does he see the true extent of the injuries. Bruised and battered, both hand and knee were scraped raw only just scabbing over. The cuts weren’t too deep, superficial at most, but the bruising would only get worse before it got better and even then, the open wounds still needed to be properly cleaned and patched up.

“O-oh, I’m sorry, Touko-san. It’s nothing, really!” Takashi answers, clenching his fist and turning it away from Touko in an effort to hide them away from her.

“Natsume Takashi!” Touko raises her voice a slight pitch and suddenly both Shigeru and Takashi are ramrod straight. “We’re going to patch you up,” She gives a pointed look to Shigeru before continuing. “And then all of us are going to enjoy a wonderful dinner!”

And with that, Touko whisks Takashi away, pulling him into the kitchen and sitting him down in his chair. She grabs a clean napkin, lightly wetting it before returning to Takashi and rolling his pants up past his knee, dabbing at the still bleeding cut. Shigeru on the other hand enters the room a moment later, a small innocuous white box in his hand. He sets it down on the dining table and starts pulling out antiseptic, gauze, and band aids. When Touko finishes, Shigeru sweeps in, patching Takashi up. The two work in easy unison and Takashi can feel the physical burn of love coming from the two of them. And like the fire bursting with sparks, the sting of newly cleaned wounds lights another spark in his heart.

He’s home.

click here for chapter one